Fall of The House of Grantham
by KittykatMC
Summary: When World War 2 breaks out, the Crawley family are forced to face the one thing they have been dreading - the departure of their beloved boys. But can Mary and Matthew put aside their own fears and help their children through this hell? Or will this second war, more greater, more evil than the first, threaten to destroy the House of Grantham forever? CHAPTER 53 NOW UP!
1. Nerves of Steel

**Author's Note:** This is my first ever Downton Abbey fanfic and I'm both excited and nervous so please go easy! I am a HUGE Mary/Matthew shipper so of course I've given them alot of kids! ) This story takes place at the beginning and through WW2 and involves Mary and Matthew dealing with yet another war as well as their sons going off to fight! I own the story and some characters but everything else belongs to Julian Fellowes and ITV!

Enjoy and tell me what you think!

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><p><strong>FALL OF THE HOUSE OF GRANTHAM<strong>

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><p><strong><em>The War Comes Back to Downton Abbey - This time bigger and more horrific than the first...<em>**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 - Nerves of Steel<strong>

_**September 3rd 1939**_

_"I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room of 10 Downing Street."_

The voice of their prime minister rang clearly through the crackling wireless. The Crawley family were clustered around it in the small library. Eighteen year old Joseph Matthew Crawley stood further apart from his family, arms crossed and leaning against the bookcase, trying ever so hard not to show the terror which was coursing through his entire body. How things can change. Only just three meagre months ago they had celebrated his sister's thirteenth birthday and now here they were about to hear the biggest news that could change their lives. He was prepared no matter what. Only two months ago he had sent his grandmothers and mother into a frenzy when he announced that he wouldn't be returning to Cambridge. He'd be enlisting in the army to be prepared to fight so when the time came for him to be called, he'd be more than ready.

"Why do you want to do this Joseph?" Isobel had asked desperately after Joseph had made the shocking announcement at dinner. "We don't know there's going to be a war."

"Really Granny," Joseph sighed, putting down his fork in exasperation. "It's not like I want to do this I have to! Haven't you been reading the papers recently? We're literally on the brink of war."

"You don't know that!" Mary said shrilly. Deep in her heart she knew it too, but she would rather turn a blind eye to it than face the prospect of her son going off to war.

"I do Mama," Joseph replied patiently.

Mary rounded on her husband in a panic, "Matthew, tell your son he's being ridiculous!"

Everyone looked at Earl of Grantham who sipped his wine tentatively. Finally he cleared his throat and said, "If he doesn't go now. He will have to go sooner or later. He might as well start early. It'll give him a head start." Matthew tensed his jaw. He hated to say it but he couldn't see a way to fight his son on this one. Especially as he would have done exactly the same thing.

"So he can go to war early?" Mary asked incredulously.

"It's only training!" Joseph snapped.

"All the men aged between sixteen to thirty-six have been put on stand-by," Matthew interjected thinly, "It will happen sometime. We just – don't know when." He took a large gulp of wine.

"Joe if you stop your education now it will be that much harder to get back on track," Cora said pointedly to her grandson. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Grandmama I have to!" Joseph retorted impatiently. "I can't explain why. At least I'm not going to." He carried on eating, oblivious to the startled look his father and grandmother were giving him.

Now, Joseph gazed at his family. His sisters, seventeen year old Georgina and thirteen year old Rebecca were knelt beside their father while his brothers, fifteen year old Edward and six year old Benjamin were sat on the floor surrounding the wireless. All of them were held in a distraught trance by Chamberlain's voice.

_"This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note, stating that unless we heard from them - by 11 o'clock - that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us."_

Matthew exchanged a worried glance with Mary, not gone unnoticed by their eldest son. Papa – how he had admired his father, he knew what that look meant for he saw the subtle look his father shot him before quickly turning away. Joseph's heart started hammering. He knew what the situation was, he wasn't ignorant. He had been at many events where all the high men in society were praising him for his bravery as all the young men had been put on stand- by. He followed the news just like everyone else. Of course Germany weren't going to withdraw their troops. He knew that. He agitatedly ran his hand through his dark hair. Of all the things inherited from their parents, him and Georgina both won their mother's hair but donned their father's warm cerulean blue eyes. Eyes that were now turning cold with dread at every word Chamberlain spoke.

_"I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received and that, consequently, this country is at war with Germany."_

Joseph breathed in sharply and nodded in confirmation. Yes. They were at war with Germany. Joseph just let Chamberlain's words ricochet of him like bullets. It was the moment he had been ready for, for a whole year now. Isobel and the girls all clapped their hands to their mouths in horror. The moment the words had left the speaker, Matthew closed his eyes and let out a sigh of dejection. Joseph knew what he was thinking. He never thought it would happen again, let alone to his son.

"Not again," Isobel whispered. Rebecca reached over to clasp her grandmother's hand.

"Don't worry Granny," Rebecca said soothingly.

"I'm sorry darling," Isobel sniffed, squeezing her granddaughter's hand. "I just never thought - I'd have to face it again. That's all." She exchanged a glance with her son.

"I – never thought I'd say this but - thank God your father isn't here for this!" Cora choked. The family all cast their despondent eyes upon Robert's portrait which hung majestically above the fireplace.

The ghost Chamberlain's final words still echoed chillingly around the room, creeping into the minds of all the Crawley's. Joseph could barely move. He felt rooted to the spot.

_"This country is at war with Germany."_

Joseph shut his eyes tight, trying to make sense of everything that had prepared him for this moment.

_"This country is at war with Germany."_

Could he remember how to fly a plane? Hold a gun? Duck and cover?

_"This country is at war with Germany."_

Then very slowly, all eyes in the room turned themselves onto Joseph. The heir to the house of Grantham. Well, for now at least. Joseph couldn't bear the sight of his mother staring at him like that, her lips pursed in a thin grim line and her brown eyes glistening with fear and anxiety. She was trying to keep it all together but he knew she could break at any second.

Joseph tried to smile in order to lighten the heavy mood. "So… it's finally happening. About time." He really couldn't think of anything else to say.

"So much for Germany's treaty," Mary mumbled bitterly.

"I can't believe Hitler went back on his word!" Georgina spat. "That is so infuriating!"

"What do you expect?" Joseph scoffed, "That we're all going to hold hands and dance around the world together? You've read the news! You know what he's done! That man is evil personified!"

"So is the war with Hitler or Germany?" Rebecca asked in confusion.

"Both." Matthew answered shortly.

"But what about Italy?" Edward asked. "Who's side are they on now?"

"Ours if they know what's good for them!" Joseph growled.

"Joseph not in front of your brother," Mary scolded with a nod at Benjamin who was listening in curiously.

"Joe," Matthew stood up and sauntered over to his eldest son. He placed a trembling hand on his shoulder. "In just a couple of months you're going to be nineteen. And obviously you're not going back to University so - I just want to let you know that…" Matthew bit his lip, his throat closing up. Joseph gazed into the eyes of his father which were so like his own.

"I know Papa," Joseph said gently, squeezing his father's shoulder in reassurance. "You don't need to say anything. I know."

Matthew breathed a tiny sigh of relief and smiled in understanding before excusing himself politely. Joseph watched him go with his heart feeling heavy.

Mary used the arms of her chair to pull herself up. She knew it was going to happen, she wasn't blind or stupid. Every morning when her husband cast an eye over the paper and his lips would form that thin, worried line she just knew something was wrong in Europe which was pushing them all closer and closer to the brink of destruction. Before he could even say anything she would deliberately change the subject so they wouldn't have to talk about it. She just didn't want her children to have to listen to it, to be burdened with it. All she wanted was to cling desperately to the little ignorance she had left. How she regretted that now.

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><p>Dinner had never been a more subdued affair. No one had any appetite and the conversation was very forced and very deliberate. Only Benjamin appeared to be confused by this change in his family's behaviour.<p>

"Why is everybody acting so odd?" Benjamin piped up suddenly, snapping everyone out of their miserable reverie. "Is it because Joey's going to the war that the man was talking about on the wire - wireless?"

"How – how on earth did you know that?" Matthew asked his youngest inquisitively.

"Eddie told me." Benjamin replied simply.

"He was asking me why everyone was so sad!" Edward said defensively to his mother's scowl. "I couldn't lie to him. Not now."

"Are you really going to fight in the war Joe?" Benjamin asked with wide eyes.

Joseph just smiled sadly at his baby brother's obliviousness and whispered, "Yes. Yes I am."

"But you're going to be a hero like Papa! Aren't you? Aren't you Joey?" Benjamin was about to burst with excitement.

Joseph nodded very slowly. "I suppose so. Yes. I am going off to be a hero. I hope so anyway."

"Then… Why is everyone so sad?" Benjamin pressed. Joseph's stomach clenched with jealousy at his brother's blissful ignorance.

"Sometimes it's not always so magical being a hero darling." Mary said curtly. Matthew glared at her as Benjamin's face fell.

"What your mother means Benji," Matthew added in a more gentle voice, "Is that war… it – brings out a lot of complications. That's all." He ruffled his youngest child's hair, "But it's nothing for you to worry about!"

"Yes you don't need to worry Benji," Cora said with a small smile. "Just eat your potatoes young man."

Benjamin frowned, "But - but why doesn't Edward have to go off to war? Joey's going so why can't Edward go with him, then he won't be on his own and we don't have to be so sad!"

Georgina cast a surreptitious glance at her mother. Mary bit her lip, trying to stop herself from screaming at her youngest when what she really wanted to was to scream at God, at the world for stealing her eldest son away before he was even nineteen.

"Well – because I'm not old enough yet," Edward said evenly with a surreptitious glance at his mother. "But I will be. When I turn sixteen. Then I can keep Joe company. So don't worry Benji."

"When are you sixteen Eddie?"

"March."

"What month is it now?"

"It's September Beji." Rebecca said simply.

"Oh yes." Benjamin said lightly. "So that means cousin Tommy will have to go. He's the same age as Georgina. Isn't he?"

Mary sighed heavily. Oh she loved her youngest so dearly but he didn't half remind her of Matthew with his damned questions and that typical Crawley stubbornness. It was a big shock for Matthew and Mary when they were told that she was already five months gone with Benjamin. They had four children, the youngest being six so they certainly weren't expecting anymore, they were in their late thirties for heaven sake! Nevertheless when Benjamin Daniel Crawley entered the world, they quickly found that they couldn't imagine life without him. Especially as he had come so soon after the death of their beloved matriarch.

As the baby of the family, Benjamin Crawley proved to be quite a bright young thing. Before his first birthday he was babbling nonsense words and before his third birthday he was following his parents and siblings around, already asking all sorts of interesting questions. Out of all of Mary and Matthew's children, Benjamin was the one who had inherited their father's kind and gentle nature.

"Yes son." Matthew stretched a smile, "He's seventeen so…Tommy will be fighting for Ireland."

No one said anything but immediately their thoughts went to Sybil and her family. Cora just thanked God that Edith didn't have any sons to put her through this. She didn't know if she could take anymore, what with two of her grandsons going off to war and another one not far off.

Yes, Edward Samuel Crawley already knew that he wanted to run off and join the marines and train as a medic, following in his paternal grandfather's footsteps. Of course he only mentioned this to his brother. In just six months he would be sixteen and it would be his turn to fight.

"Have you finished reading Moby Dick yet Benji?" Rebecca asked quickly as he opened his mouth to ask yet another question.

Benjamin closed his mouth and shook his head shyly. "No not yet."

"Oh Moby Dick!" Isobel exclaimed in delight, thankful for the change in subject. "That was always one of my favourites! How does it go again? Oh, 'Call me Ishmael -'"

"But how long is Joey going to war for?" Benjamin interrupted in a voice laced with distress.

"Not now Benjamin just focus on your dinner please." Matthew asked politely.

"But it's not fair Papa, no one's answering my questions!" Benjamin whined, poking at his potatoes in a huff.

"I'm not going to be gone for long Benji." Joseph answered calmly. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Do you promise?" Benjamin asked, his eyes narrowing.

Joseph hesitated for a split second before plastering on a false smile. "I promise."

CLANG!

Everyone around the table jumped as Mary threw her cutlery down in anger. "Excuse me!" She sobbed, rushing out of the room. Matthew squeezed Joseph's shoulder apologetically before rushing after his wife.

Benjamin's lips quivered. "Is it something I said?"

Georgina patted her brother's head, "No darling. Mama's just upset over Joe going that's all."

Joseph sighed in defeat, threw down his napkin and glared at no one in particular "If she can't handle a conversation about the war at the dinner table how in God's name is she going to handle me actually fighting in it?"

"Don't worry Joe." Cora said softly. "She'll get used to it."

"She'll have to." Georgina added in a tight voice. "She doesn't have a choice." She glowered at her older brother. "None of us do."

They finished their dinner in silence, each lost in their own thoughts of what they had to prepare themselves for.

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><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	2. The Longest Night

**Author's Note:**Thanks for all the reviews and support! It means alot! I know the last chapter said he's going off to war but this is focused on the night before!

Enjoy!

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 2 – The Longest Night<span>**

**_September 5th 1939_**

**_10:15pm_**

Georgina Mary Crawley took a deep breath and knocked on the door of her father's study. The teacup held steadily in her shaking hand.

"Come in." Matthew called softly.

Georgina entered the study where her father was seated behind his large oak desk, just bathing in the soft light of the desk lamp. He squinted at the door.

"Mary?" Matthew asked uncertainly.

Georgina stepped out of the shadows and into the light with a smirk. "No Papa. Just me."

Matthew laughed tiredly. "Oh Georgina. I'm sorry darling, it's just you standing there – you reminded me so much of your mother. You're beginning to look more and more like her every day."

"So I've been told." Georgina replied with a proud smile. She walked over to her father's desk and gently placed the teacup in front of it. "Here you are Papa it's for you. I had Mrs Plum make it especially. Herbal tea. Very soothing. I thought you might like it, especially with tomorrow just a couple of hours away."

"And how many cups has your mother drunk?" Matthew asked with a nervous frown, eyeing the teacup warily.

Georgina shook her head dejectedly, "About five cups in the last hour. Especially after talking to Aunt Edith."

Matthew closed his eyes. "Tell me."

Georgina smiled in amusement and sat down. "Mama had a call from Aunt Edith about an hour ago. She sends Joe her love and support. Apparently she just wouldn't stop boasting to all her New York friends about her nephews in England and Ireland and how brave they are."

Matthew chuckled bitterly, "Of course she did. It wouldn't be your sister if she didn't use this as an opportunity to climb up the rungs of the American social ladder, despite being married to a Rockefeller."

"That's exactly what Mama said." Georgina stared at her father in amazement. "You and Mama… I never can understand how you can be so alike yet so different."

"Speaking of which, where is your mother?" Matthew asked with concern.

"I think she's putting Benji to sleep. He's still not feeling well poor darling." Georgina made a face, "I suppose Mrs Plum's carrot cake didn't agree with him after all."

"What about your grandmothers and brothers and sister?"

Georgina raised her eyebrow, "Well Granny went back to Crawley house, Grandmama went back to the Dower house and the last time I checked in on them, Joseph was in a tether because Benji was sick all over his new boots and Rebecca was shouting at Edward for reading her diary - again."

They both sighed heavily. Georgina gazed upon the desk and noticed a half drunk bottle of scotch and an empty glass beside a picture of her and her siblings. Matthew caught his daughter staring and surreptitiously cleared the table.

"Papa?" Georgina asked in that stern voice she adopted from her mother.

"It's nothing that you need to worry about my darling!" Matthew said dismissively. "Really."

"Is it because Joe's going tomorrow?" Georgina asked sadly.

Matthew didn't say anything. He just shrugged slightly, lost in his own thoughts.

"I'm going to miss Joe as well. I'm going to miss fighting with him! It doesn't feel like he's packing up to go back to Eton or Cambridge. This feels different. Like we're never going to see him again." She whispered those last words. Her father's head snapped towards her, he opened his mouth but couldn't say anything. Georgina bit her lip worriedly, "You're worrying too much Papa. It's not good for your health."

Matthew gave his daughter a cracked smile. "Oh my darling. I have to worry, it's a natural part of life. When you're older you'll realize what I'm talking about."

Georgina flicked her deep blue eyes to her father, "I do Papa. I already do." She whispered, her lip quivering. "I worry about Joe as well. I'm worried about Edward and Mama, what this is going to do to her and then there's you -"

"Hey now there is to be none of that!" Matthew said firmly. He reached out his hand for his daughter to take which she did. "Princess it's not your job to stay strong for me or your mother. It's our job to do that for each other and for you and your brothers and sisters."

"But Papa -"

"No princess, I don't want you doing this to yourself." Matthew interrupted in that kind voice which brought back a hundred childhood memories for her. Georgina obediently pursed her lips. "Now I understand you're worried about your brother but I have every confidence that Joseph can take care of himself."

"You really think so?" Georgina asked anxiously, her free hand twirling her necklace in agitation, a habit she inherited from her mother.

"Of course he can! I like to think your Mama and I have raised you five children right." Matthew said with an arched brow.

"Oh you have!" Georgina gushed, "Of course you have, you and Mama are wonderful parents!"

"Then promise you'll come to me or your mother if you ever feel upset or scared. You used to be able to do that all the time." Matthew smiled impishly, "Why I think I remember a little girl who made me search under her bed and her wardrobe for the big bad wolf?"

Georgina giggled in embarrassment, "Goodness you remember that?"

"I'm your father," Matthew answered with a laugh. "Of course I remember that!"

Georgina wiped the stray tears from her cheeks and rose to leave. "Thank you Papa. I promise I'll talk to you more. I've certainly missed this."

"Me too. Goodnight princess," Matthew called to his eldest daughter as she started to leave.

"Goodnight Papa!" Georgina chirped back.

"Georgina." Matthew called out suddenly.

His daughter paused with her hand on the door handle and turned towards him with a faint smile, "Yes Papa?"

Matthew swallowed. "You do know that everything I've done. Everything I fought for has all been for you, your brothers and sister. Your future. You know that don't you?"

Georgina sighed slightly and tilted her head. How many times has she heard him say that? "Yes Papa. I know. You love us. Just like Joe is leaving because he loves us too." She left the room quickly, leaving her father to dwell in her words.

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><p><strong>11:00pm<strong>

Mary paused beside the lip of her youngest son's bedroom. She leaned against the doorframe and just watched him sleep. She smiled softly, her heart melting. Really, there was nothing more content than watching your children sleep, safe and sound, shut out and oblivious to the harsh realities of this cruel, cold world. How she wished she could just wrap him up in his blanket and keep him a child forever. Benjamin sighed in his sleep and rolled over, instinctively his thumb found its way into his mouth. Mary chuckled fondly. Edward used to do that. She shook her head in despair. Edward. In just a few precious months, he too would be a victim of war.

Tender hands wrapped around her waist. She didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. "He might look like me but I actually think he looks like you when he's asleep." Matthew whispered lovingly into his wife's ear.

"I wouldn't know." Mary replied softly. She shuffled him silently away from the room and closed the door on their sleeping son. She turned to her husband and kissed him. "Let's go to bed I'm exhausted." She pulled back, licking her lips with a frown. She could taste the scotch. "Matthew? Have you been drinking?"

"I - had a little scotch. Then Georgina came in to talk to me and brought me some of that herbal tea -"

Mary snorted, "Yes. Such a darling girl isn't she?"

"Always looking after us. It should be the other way around." Matthew shook his head in disappointment.

"Yes it should." Mary nodded and started off down the corridor, motioning for her husband to follow.

"Have you spoken to Joseph?" Matthew asked evenly as he followed Mary into their bedroom.

"No." Mary answered curtly. She sat at her vanity table and started to unpin her curls, deliberately ignoring her husband who was watching her reflection intently.

"Well… don't you think you ought to?" Matthew asked cautiously, advancing slowly towards her.

"Darling I've said all I needed to say to him at dinner." Mary responded coolly.

Matthew stopped and stared at her in distress. "Mary… asking him if he's planning on reading any books while he's away is not what I'm talking about! He's not going on around the world trip he's going off to war for God's sake!"

Mary slammed her hairbrush down and rounded on her husband, her dark eyes flaring. "I know that Matthew!" she breathed dangerously. "For over a year now I have thought of nothing else! What do I say to him, what do I do – what do I think when war breaks out! And now it's finally happening and I'm supposed to just put on a false smile and pretend everything's fine while I'm packing his uniform!" She turned back to her reflection muttering, "Anyway he's in the RAF. The damage can't be that bad."

Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose before patiently saying, "Mary will you just listen to me. You do not want to send our son of to war on unhappy terms."

She breathed in deeply, "Matthew please I can't do this tonight."

"Joseph is leaving tomorrow morning Mary!" Matthew hissed desperately. Mary flinched. "Whether you like it or not he's going off to fight in the war. Whether he's in the RAF, the Navy or the Army he is still fighting one way or another! Now you can either be there for him and support him as his mother or send him off to war thinking he's making a mistake!" Mary closed her eyes, trying to stop Matthew's words from penetrating her mind. "And let me tell you now, I won't have him thinking that going off to fight for this country is a mistake."

"And you think I do?" Mary shot out.

"Have you given me or him any reason to think otherwise?" Matthew asked incredulously. "I don't like it Mary – I don't like it at all. It feels that everything I've done is all for nothing. Twenty-five years ago I went off to a war just like this one and fought for a better future for our children -"

"Oh yes and how did that turn out for them?" Mary asked in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I resent that Mary!" Matthew growled.

"So do I Matthew!" Mary retorted thinly. "Your eldest child that you've fought so hard for is going off like a lamb to the slaughter! Flying those blasted contraptions in the sky! The sky for goodness sake -!"

"Joseph is a wonderful, bright, intelligent young man, we have raised him to be strong and independent." Matthew interrupted in a voice glazed with pride. "He takes wonderful care of his siblings and I have every confidence that he will make a fine leader."

"I know you think that darling." Mary said quietly.

"What's wrong Mary? I'm your husband just tell me!" Matthew begged.

"I spoke to Edith today," Mary answered thinly. "She called me to wish Joe well."

"I know, Georgina told me. She also told me how much bragging Edith's done around New York's high society?" Matthew asked with trepidation.

"Yes." Mary answered tightly. "Now everyone in New York City sends their word of admiration to us. And it never stops Matthew. All our friends, the servants, everyone have been congratulating us on how proud we should be of Joseph and what a fine young soldier he'll be. But they don't understand. He doesn't belong to us he belongs to them now. You might see a healthy young man, a hero, ready to fight to his death for his king and country but – but," Mary's voice shook with every word. "To me he's my baby. That's my baby going off to fight for his life Matthew do you understand?"

Matthew winced. He stared at his wife, his blue eyes resembling chips of ice. "Of course I understand Mary." Matthew said in a calm fury. "I understand better than you think because that boy, the one that's going off to fight for his life tomorrow - is _my_ baby too!"

And with those words he stormed out of their bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

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><p><strong>11:14pm<strong>

Joseph lay in his bed staring at the canopy above him, a million thoughts should be racing through his mind right now but he couldn't think of anything except his family and how much he'd miss them while he was away.

A door slammed somewhere down the corridor. Joseph bolted upright and hopped out of bed in curiosity. He opened the door with a smile, thinking it might be Benjamin, afraid of the dark again and asking to stay in his room. Instead he almost collided straight into his father who was about to knock on his door.

"Papa!"

"Joe. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Matthew said apologetically.

"No, no I was up anyway," Joseph said dismissively.

"It's a big day tomorrow." Matthew said with a wry smile.

"Yes it is. A very big day." Joseph said lightly, "But it is - what it is isn't it?" Joseph forced a smile but Matthew could see the sheer fright which was fighting to surface in those cerulean blue eyes of his.

"Joe… if you can't sleep because you're scared about tomorrow it's perfectly natural. I know what you're going through," Matthew said softly. "You don't have to pretend with me son. Not ever."

Joseph felt his throat close up tightly at his father's words. He desperately wanted to tell his father all his fears and everything that was troubling him but somehow he just couldn't. Not while they were standing in the corridor outside his room, it was hardly the time or the place. Also, Joseph didn't want to tell his father anything because he was scared of what he might say. Once he started he knew he wouldn't be able to stop and he just couldn't bring himself to burden his father with his own troubles. Not tonight of all nights.

So Joseph pressed on a false smile and said in a voice of obligatory composure like his mother, "I'm not pretending Papa. I'm awake because I haven't finished packing yet that's all. As soon as I've finished I'll go straight to bed because I'm really exhausted." He forced a yawn and laughed, "See! You have nothing to worry about. I'm fine. Okay?"

Matthew smiled sadly. "All right Joe. Whatever you say. You just make sure you have a good night's sleep all right?"

Joseph's collected demeanour almost cracked at the concerned look his father wore but he covered it up immediately. "Of course Papa. You too. Goodnight." As soon as he shut the door, Joseph breathed out slowly and slid down his door to the floor and pulled his knees to his chest. Then he finally released the torrent of tears that had been kerbed behind his eyes for months now. He screwed his hands into fists and pounded at his forehead in anger and frustration.

On the other side of the door Matthew placed his hand on the oak barrier that separated himself and his eldest son. His heart was wrenching with despair as he heard the small sobs echoing from inside Joe's room. Matthew wanted so much to just reach through the oak and comfort him, to hold him, just like he used to when he was a newborn baby suffering from colic or a little boy terrified from a nightmare. But now his firstborn son is almost nineteen, reaching manhood and wouldn't open up to him because of that damn Crawley stubbornness.

So there was nothing Matthew could do except leave him be.

He couldn't go to him this time.

No matter how much he wanted to.

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><p>To be continued...<p> 


	3. Soldier Boy

**Author's Note:**Thanks again for all your reviews it's really inspiring to know what you think. As I type this note out I'm currently watching the first part of Julian Fellowes Titanic - it really is like Downton at Sea!

Anyway this chapter focuses on Joe going off to war and how Matthew and Mary flashback to times in their past when they are reminded of it in their present. (Everything in italics is flashback) Also just pretend in this universe that Mary and Matthew got married in Jan. 1920 as their son was born in Nov.

Tell me what you think, if you think the flashbacks is a good idea and you want more or not. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 - Soldier Boy<strong>

_**September 6th 1939**_

_**7:15am**_

It took all the will she had to prise her eyes open. Mary squinted into the bright sunlight which intruded into her bedroom. How can it be so bright on a day like this? She groaned and rolled away from the window, expecting to feel Matthew by her side, instead all she felt was the print on the bed sheet where his body had been. Her eyes snapped open. Mary turned a keen ear towards their ensuite, hoping that he was just in the bathroom and would then return to take her in his arms and make this incurable feeling disappear, even for a moment. But she couldn't hear a thing. The silence was maddening.

Mary curled up on her side, her heart feeling heavy. Today she was going to lose a child. It was inevitable. All she could think about was the last time she'd felt this way.

**_July 21st 1925_**

_Mary limped out of the bathroom and crawled back into bed. Curling up into a foetal position she closed her eyes and tried to let the sharp, throbbing pain stabbing across her abdomen just subside. Mary wiped the stray tears from her eyes as she let out small moans of pain. Everything had been fine this morning. Then at dinner they were all happily talking one minute and the next she was doubling up in pain. Before Dr Clarkson had been summoned, Mary knew. She just knew._

_The door opened slowly and Matthew padded into the room. He slipped in carefully beside his wife and tried to cradle her, without hurting her. Mary winced as he absently caressed her swollen stomach._

_"How are you feeling?" Matthew asked softly._

_"Empty." Mary croaked. Matthew kissed her cheek. "Have you spoken to the children? They must've had quite a fright after I just ran out of the room like that, screaming for help."_

_"Your father's with them now. Just try to sleep Mary," Matthew said soothingly. "You've had a – shock and Dr Clarkson said that you need to -"_

_"I've lost the baby Matthew."_

_Matthew closed his eyes, wishing that she hadn't said it out loud._

_"Matthew? I've lost the baby. Again." Mary turned towards him, her lips quivering. "Why does this keep happening? This is the second time!" Matthew buried his face in her neck and sobbed his heart out. She stroked his head and let the tears run loose._

_"Just don't think about it." Matthew murmured into her neck, "We already have our three beautiful children… just don't think about it."_

_"Can you – can you please flush the toilet darling?" Mary sniffed. She hated to ask him to do it but it had to be done._

_Matthew pulled away and stared at her through his tears. "What?"_

_"Dr Clarkson said that it was smaller than my little finger." Mary whispered. "Unlike – unlike the last time."_

_"And did you…is there…have you seen…?" Matthew asked through gritted teeth._

_"No. I – I just can't bear to look this time." Mary said in a shaky voice. "There was so much blood and… I just couldn't bear to look."_

_"All right darling." Matthew composed himself and tentatively stalked into the bathroom. Mary listened to him with a keen ear. She heard him let out a heart wrenching cough and then the quick flush of the toilet._

_Mary closed her eyes, trying to block out the sound. Matthew hurried back into the bedroom and stroked her hair, "It's all right," He muttered. "Ssh… the hard part is over."_

Now Mary forced herself to climb out of bed. It was going to be one of the hardest days of her life but for the sake of her children, she had to be strong.

* * *

><p><em><strong>9:30am<strong>_

Rebecca Sophia Crawley gently rapped on her mother's door. "Mama," She called softly, "Can I come in?"

"Of course darling," Came Mary's airy reply.

Rebecca carefully stepped into her mother's suite and perched cautiously on the end of her bed. "Are you ready Mama?"

Mary examined her reflection in the mirror, one last slick of lipstick and squirt of perfume and she was ready. She turned back to her daughter with a false smile. "Yes darling. I'm ready. What is the news?"

"Benjamin's being fed and Edward said the parade is about to start so we'd better hurry! All the servants are waiting."

"The parade?" Mary asked sharply. "What parade?"

Rebecca blanched under mother's hard stare. "Didn't – didn't Joe tell you? The city is having a parade to celebrate the soldiers before they leave this afternoon. Joseph is going to be a part of it."

"Is he now? And just what is he going to be doing? " Mary asked behind thinly veiled sarcasm.

"All the soldiers are going to be marching from this side of the village and then all the way through Ripon and back -"

"And when exactly was your brother planning on telling me this?" Mary demanded furiously. "Before or after he'd left for France?"

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "I don't think he wanted to add to your stress Mama, we all know how you feel about him going off to war so soon."

"It's not that." Mary snapped, "I thought Joe could at least pretend to enjoy his family's company for a few hours before he's carted off to his demise!"

"Mama!" Rebecca chided. She had never heard her mother speak so coldly, so harshly like that before, especially not about her brother.

"Everybody all right?" Matthew's deep voice interrupted their awkward conversation. Rebecca and Mary jumped in surprise as he announced his presence in the doorway.

"Papa!" Rebecca smiled in welcome.

"Good morning sweetheart." Matthew greeted while keeping his eyes on his wife.

"Darling!" Mary said thinly, "I - I didn't see you standing there." She turned back to the mirror hesitantly and started patting her curls, "How – how long were you standing there?"

"Long enough." Matthew answered shortly. He turned to his youngest daughter and forced a warm smile. "Becky sweetheart can you run downstairs and tell Mrs Lockwood that due to all the excitement of the parade Benjamin's spilled orange juice all over himself again. He's needs to get changed."

Rebecca glanced at her mother before nodding and swiftly leaving her parents, glad to get away from them.

"I don't understand why Benji is so excited." Mary said quietly. "Give him ten years and he'd soon realize there won't be anything to laugh about."

"So why don't you save him the wait and tell him now." Matthew said acidly, glowering at his wife, "Or better yet why don't you just open the window and shout it out to the whole world I'm sure they'd love to know how you feel!"

"Matthew -"

"I am trying Mary," Matthew started in a shaky voice, "I really am trying to keep it together for you but you are making it so damn hard!"

"Thank you but I don't need you to stay strong for me," Mary said coldly, she turned back to her mirror and dabbed some rouge on her cheeks, "You made your feelings about the matter perfectly clear last night."

"So did you." Matthew retorted quietly. He started to walk towards her but then decided against it. Instead he headed back out of their room calling back formally, "The parade will be starting soon. We need to be there for Joseph and the other boys in the village."

"I'll be there." Mary replied frostily.

Matthew closed the door firmly behind him. Mary breathed out a deep sigh. She glanced behind her briefly to make sure the door was definitely shut before extracting a small key from her jewellery box and unlocking the top drawer of her desk. She extracted one of her old diaries and thumbed through the yellowing pages, reading the silly notions of a twelve year old girl who had absolutely no idea of the troubles and the trials that were to be hurled her way. A small black and white picture was tucked at the back. Mary stared at her twelve year old self. She stood daintily under her favourite oak tree with a book clasped to her breast and her hair held up loosely in a ribbon. Oh where had that girl gone? To whom had that young girl disappeared into now? Mary felt completely lost.

What else was in the drawer? She rootled through the leaves of her other diaries and found a picture of a beautiful baby. Oh….

**_November 6th 1920_**

_"Is it over?" Mary gasped as Isobel dabbed her forehead with a wet cloth. "Please tell me it's over."_

_"It is miss," the midwife answered excitedly, "You have delivered a healthy baby boy."_

_"A boy?" Mary lifted her head and smiled weakly as Dr Clarkson cut the umbilical cord, separating them forever. "I – that's…I can't believe it. A boy. A boy. My boy!"_

_"Congratulations!" Cora sniffed. "He's so very, very beautiful Mary!"_

_"Is he?" Mary's lips trembling with emotion._

_"Like an angel!" Isobel agreed, wiping the corner of her eyes._

_Mary laughed with relief, happiness, unexplainable emotions. "Where is he? Is he all right?"_

_"You tell me," Dr Clarkson said gently as he passed her the baby, now clean and wrapped in a fresh white towel._

_"Oh my goodness," Mary breathed as she gazed down at her beautiful child. He had her dark hair but his father's eyes. "You're right. He is absolutely perfect."_

_"Isn't he just?" Isobel whispered._

_Mary kissed her son's tiny, starfish hand which reached up to her. "So you're the one that's been kicking me all this time!" she chuckled. "I can't believe you're finally here. My little prince."_

The door knocked loudly, snapping Mary out of her memory. She jumped as Georgina stepped inside in a flurry. "Mama! What are you doing? The parade starts in… Mama?" Georgina flitted over to her mother in concern. "What's wrong?"

Mary turned to her daughter with Joseph's baby picture clutched in her hand, her eyes brimming with tears. "Oh Georgina I don't know what to do!" She completely broke down and sobbed into her hands.

"Mama!" Georgina embraced her mother and kissed her head. "There, there Mama. It's all right. It's all right, I'm here."

Mary clutched on tight to her beloved daughter, glad to have one of her precious children so close to her while Georgina looked up to the heavens in desperation. She needed to help her family and had absolutely no idea how she was going to do that.

"I'm still here." She whispered.

* * *

><p><strong>10:01am<strong>

"Is everybody ready?" Matthew asked as he crouched in front of his youngest and adjusted his cap.

"Yes Papa!" Benjamin replied eagerly, "Where's Granny?"

"She's already gone down to the parade with your Grandmama."

"So where's Joe?"

"He's still getting ready. I think he just needs some time alone right now." Matthew answered sparsely but he covered up his dark expression for the sake of his young son. "But it's exciting isn't it Benji? We're going to see him march through the city with all the other soldiers!"

"And we're going to cheer him on all right?" Rebecca added.

"Yes!" Benjamin jumped up and down with excitement, "He's going to be our hero!"

"Is Georgina coming down any time soon or is she too busy curling her hair?" Edward grumbled impatiently.

"No she's here!" Georgina answered hotly as she descended the staircase.

"What about Mama?" Rebecca asked in a hushed voice.

"She's – almost ready." Georgina answered nervously. She cast her eye towards the staircase. Her father caught her looking and his smile vanished, his lips forming in a thin, grim line.

"Where is Mama?" Benjamin asked curiously.

Matthew swallowed. "I'm not sure she's -"

"Coming!" Mary interrupted brightly. She gracefully glided down the staircase, her hair magnificently curled and her make-up not an inch out of place.

"Mama." Georgina breathed in furtive relief.

"What's wrong?" She asked with a playful smirk as Matthew just gaped at her. "Didn't you think I was going to make it?"

"I – I – there's - you look absolutely beautiful darling!" Matthew sputtered and quickly kissed her cheek. Rebecca giggled whereas Edward rolled his eyes.

"Look! Look there's Joe!" Benjamin squeaked.

All eyes immediately flicked towards the staircase where Joseph stood at the top, all decked in his navy blue attire. Mary's throat closed up in emotion as she watched her eldest son troop nervously down the staircase she had watch him run down so many times as a rowdy child. Oh he looked so handsome and so…so very grown up in his RAF uniform. And how like his father he was.

Joseph stopped at the bottom of the staircase and collected himself together before heading over to his family. "Well – how do I look?" He asked them nervously.

"You look very handsome darling." Mary answered in a hushed voice. Joseph smiled at her in gratitude.

"Papa?" He turned to his father, heart thumping in expectation. "What do you think? Do I look brave enough?"

Matthew sauntered over to his son and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Joseph struggled not to break down as his father stared at him so intently.

"You look so much more than that," Matthew said hoarsely. Mary pressed her fingers against her lips, tears threatening to spill. Matthew pointed at the wings imprinted on Joseph's chest, "You are so much more than that. Don't you dare forget that."

Joseph nodded. A silent understanding passed between father and son. "I won't Papa, I promise."

"You go out there and make us proud," Matthew ordered firmly. "Forget England, forget the war for now. Today is all about you and the sacrifice you're making for us."

Joseph let a rogue tear slip down his cheek. "Papa please, you're already ruining my reputation!" He jested. Matthew and Mary gave a watery chuckle before gathering themselves together and headed outside where the servants were waiting to escort them to the parade.

* * *

><p><strong>1:45pm<strong>

Left, right, left, right, left, right. Joseph repeated the simple motions in his head while he marched down the streets in the town he grew up in. All the screaming, the roaring applause and the red and blue blurs as the crowd waved the union jack at him, just passed right over his head. It was all about him and his sacrifice that he was making for his family. That was what his father had told him. He couldn't bear to look at his family and see little Benji waving and clapping excitedly for him. So Joseph focused straight ahead and continued the ritual walk, his mind clearing any thoughts of the horrors that lay ahead.

Matthew felt his heart swell with pride as he watched his eldest son march down the street with the other boys, head held high, chest thrust out, his gun resting casually on his right shoulder while he just stared straight ahead with his face completely devoid of any expression. Matthew thought back to when he was in this position. There hadn't been any time for any sort of recognition, it was just pack up, say your goodbyes and leave. At least he knew what was to be expected this time round all though it did feel strange to be on the other side of the fence this time, to be the one watching and waiting from the side lines while his son fought the battle. And not just any battle - he knew absolutely nothing about planes. The Royal Air Force was still relatively new to the military, having been born towards the end of the first war and as much as Matthew tried to persuade his son to reconsider, Joe remained adamant that the Air Force was his true calling.

"Doesn't Joe look marvellous!" Rebecca exclaimed in delight.

Mr Cutler their butler turned to Matthew with a smile, "The RAF certainly are gaining a fine young man your Lordship!"

"Yes they are."

"He looks so grown up," Isobel whispered into her son's ear.

"Yes he does." Matthew replied wistfully.

**_November 7th 1920_**

_"So have you thought of a name for our little prince?" Matthew asked warmly as he peered into his son's crib. The baby cooed up at him and continued to gnaw on his sleeve. "I think he might be hungry."_

_"I've thought of a middle name for him actually." Mary answered softly, she reclined against her pillows and watched her husband for his reaction._

_"Oh?" Matthew said absently as he carefully lifted his small son out of his crib._

_"Matthew."_

_"Yes I'm bringing him to you."_

_"No – no, Matthew as his middle name."_

_Matthew stopped and turned his attention to his wife. His eyes widened in disbelief. "What?"_

_"After his very handsome and very brave father." Mary continued with a soft smile. "He wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you."_

_Matthew broke into a wide grin as he stared down at his baby. "Well, he does have my eyes and my appetite!"_

_Mary chuckled as Matthew tenderly eased their baby into her arms. "Now I've chosen his middle name you can choose his first."_

_"That's easy," Matthew replied simply. "Joseph."_

_Mary's lips twitched into a mischievous smile. "I don't know if you know this but my middle name is Josephine."_

_"Oh is it?" Matthew responded playfully. "I didn't know. It was a spontaneous name. I just picked it out of thin air." He smirked at her._

_Mary nodded mockingly, "Yes of course you did." She lifted her baby up. "Is that your name my little one? Joseph Matthew Crawley."_

* * *

><p><em><strong>4:52pm<strong>_

"Joseph Matthew Crawley you make sure you come back in one piece all right?" Isobel scolded as they stood on the platform with the dreaded train parked ominously next to them.

Joseph laughed and hugged his grandmother, "Don't worry Granny. I'm a Crawley remember? It'll take a thousand bombs to finish me off."

"Don't joke, don't make it little, not something like that!" Georgina snapped.

"I'm sorry Georgie." Joseph said sincerely. "But sometimes joking about it is the only way I can make it bearable."

"I want to give you something Joe." Georgina sniffed. She quickly unhooked her gold locket from around her neck and pressed it into his hand. "Consider it a lucky charm."

"Your locket?" Joseph exclaimed in surprise. "I can't take this Georgie!"

"Yes you can and you will!" Georgina said firmly. "Now there are pictures of us inside so when you're by yourself or flying up there in the sky doing - well whatever it is you'll be doing, and you're missing home, you can always keep us close to your heart."

"Georgina I really don't know if I can take this," Joseph said uncertainly, "Papa gave this to you last year you love this locket! I've – I've never seen you go anywhere without it!"

"All the more reason for you to come back home safely." Georgina said simply. "And I expect that locket to be returned without a scratch on it too!"

Matthew caught Mary's eye and they grinned nostalgically. Joseph pulled his sister into a tight embrace.

"Stay safe Joe." Georgina whispered. Benjamin looked up with apprehensive eyes. "And please try not to do anything stupid or heroic just because you feel you have to."

"Gosh Georgina I never knew you cared so much!" Joseph said teasingly.

Georgina pushed him away and tilted her head with a smirk, "I don't really, I just want my locket back in one piece!"

Mary and Matthew rolled their eyes in amusement. Joseph chortled and kissed his sister's cheek. Then he turned to Edward.

"It'll be your turn soon Ed." Joseph said softly. Mary pointedly looked away. "Try not to hurt yourself riding those horses for goodness sake!"

Edward punched his brother's shoulder and then grasped his hand. "I will. Please take care of yourself Joe. Wait for me okay?"

Joseph nodded and then stepped closer to him. "Listen Ed," He started quietly, "If I don't come back -"

"Joe!"

"No I have to say it! If- if I don't come back, it's up to you. You have to be the one to look after the others all right?"

"But only for a few months," Edward said pointedly. "Then I'm going on the seas."

"Don't be too eager to get out there Edward," Joseph said in a voice tinged with uneasiness. "It's not all fun and games."

"I know that," Edward said seriously. "I'm just – telling you. You can't leave me to hold the fort. So you come back do you hear?"

"Yes." Joseph said after a moment's pause. "I hear." He turned to Rebecca who flung herself into his arms, crying. "Hey! Becky – Becky don't cry please," Joseph begged, his voice cracking. "I won't be able to go happily if I know you're so upset."

Rebecca pulled back and wiped away her tears. "Well I certainly don't want that. I'm really going to miss you. Promise you'll write to us whenever you can."

"You have my word." Joseph said placidly. He kissed Rebecca's cheek and then knelt down before his youngest brother. "Now as for you - you're going to have to be a big brave boy for me okay Benji?" He asked Benjamin with a raised brow.

"Yes Joe I promise I will!" Benjamin said with fierce determination. "Joe… you're not coming back home are you?"

There was a horrible, uncomfortable silence while Joseph and his parents struggled to say something positive.

"Of course I'm coming back home." Joseph answered lightly.

"Why wouldn't he be, you silly boy!" Isobel said with an awkward laugh.

Benjamin frowned in confusion, "But – but then why is everybody hugging him like we're never going to see him again?"

"We're not, we're just hugging him because he's going away for – for a long time!" Matthew said swiftly.

"But then why was Mama crying?" Benjamin pressed.

"I wasn't crying!" Mary said quickly.

"Yes you were, you were crying this morning," Benjamin stated, "I heard you telling Georgina that you were scared Joseph isn't going to come back home. And then you said something about…Papa and how you felt scared when you thought he wasn't going to come back home."

They lapsed into another awkward silence with only the sound of the bustle of the busy crowd and the whistle of the train beside them.

"I – I didn't say that exactly," Mary said uncomfortably while Matthew sighed in defeat.

Joseph checked his watch, "Well I should really get going so Benji -"

"But I don't understand because Papa did come back home!" Benjamin stared up at his brother, his brow puckering, "So why won't you?"

"Listen," Joseph stared straight into his brother's baby blue eyes, "Do you see this?" He held out the locket on his open palm.

"That's Georgina's locket!" Benjamin replied with interest.

"Yes but it's also a good luck charm. It brings me…well… luck." Joseph explained with a wry smile.

"How does it bring you luck?" Benjamin asked enquiringly .

"It's got magic inside Benji." Joseph said in a hushed voice. "And as long as I have it on me, I will always be safe." Joseph hated lying to his brother who trusted him so much but it was the only way he could make sure Benjamin had some peace of mind.

"Ohhh!" Benjamin breathed, his little eyes widening at the locket. Then he frowned again in distress, "But what happens if you lose it? Then you'll lose the good luck!"

"I won't lose it." Joseph said patiently. "I'll keep it safe with me always. Right here." He clutched the locket in his fist and touched his heart.

"But -"

"Just give me a hug Benji."

Benjamin obediently wrapped his little arms tightly around his big brother's neck. Joseph clutched on tightly to Benjamin and closed his eyes, breathing in his sweet smell and wishing he could just stay here with them. He felt his brother's little hand patting his back. The whistle blew shrilly in the distance, announcing his impending departure. Joseph reluctantly detached himself from his baby brother and smiled through his tears.

"You're crying." Benjamin exclaimed intently.

"Am I?" Joseph hurriedly wiped his eyes. "Not anymore."

"You were. Why were you crying Joe?" Benjamin probed. "Are you sad?"

"No of course I'm not sad you silly thing, why would I be!" Joseph lied, his voice betraying him. "I'm just happy that's all. I could never be sad when I'm going off to be hero now could I?"

Benjamin nodded stoically, not completely convinced. Joseph just ruffled his hair and moved away from him before he broke down completely. He finally turned to his parents and smirked.

"Here we are again." Joseph said finely.

"Yes." Mary said numbly. She gave him a very shaky smile and pulled him in for an embrace. She felt her heart breaking as she pressed her lips to his soft cheek and breathed in his smell. "Be careful out there all right my darling?" she whispered into his ear. As she pulled away she shot a worried glance to the sky. "Or should I say up there?"

Joseph chuckled, "I'll be fine Mama. My Squadron base is at Biggin Hill so it's quite near London and I won't be by myself, I'll have a co-pilot with me during the beginning week."

"Yes well he'd better look after you or else I shall have words with him!" Mary responded in a clipped voice.

Joseph raised his eyebrows at Edward, "Yes Mama." He then turned to his father and smiled sadly. "Take care of Mama won't you."

"I always do." Matthew replied gently. He shook his son's hand and fondly touched his cheek. "Good luck son. I can't give you any advice on how to fly a plane as I never did that – but whatever you have to do, just know who you're doing it for."

Joseph nodded. "I will Papa. And thank you."

"What for?"

Joseph shrugged. "For everything."

Matthew tried not to let his emotions overcome him. He felt the tear stinging behind his eyes. "Well," He choked, "You will be fine because you've turned into a fine young man."

"Only because you're my father." Joseph responded humbly.

Then Joseph lifted his hand to his head in a salute which Matthew returned. From a soldier to a pilot, from a father to his son. Benjamin watched the exchange with inquisitive eyes.

With one last look and lingering smile at his family Joseph Crawley hoisted his kit bag over his shoulder and boarded his train. Matthew shut the train door and nodded at his son as the train started to pull away. Joseph took his hat off and waved it out of the window as the train picked up speed, sweeping him away from the comfort of Downton and towards his future at Biggin Hill.

Georgina blew him a kiss with tears in her eyes. Mary and Isobel waved their handkerchiefs at him.

"Bye Joe!" Benjamin squealed, waving madly through the cloud of smoke. "Good luck!"

Joseph continued to wave at them until he disappeared out of sight and they couldn't see him anymore.

Matthew clenched and unclenched his fist. That was it. There was no way back. He was off to France and there wasn't a damn thing any of them could do about it.

"There he goes. He's gone." Mary whispered, her voice completely broken. "That's my baby and he's gone."

And that's when Mary's legs gave way and she crumbled into Matthew's arms in a distraught heap.

"Ssh, it's all right," Matthew murmured, stroking her hair, "The hard part is over. It's all over."

* * *

><p>To Be Continued...<p> 


	4. Letters From Joseph

**Author's Note:**Thank you all for the reviews you're all giving me good support to keep this story going! This chapter focuses more from Georgina's P.O.V because she's the rock for the family and will play some important roles in the future! ;)

Keep the reviews coming!

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4 – Letters From Joseph<strong>

_**October 14th 1939**_

As the weeks passed, the Crawley family found themselves falling through a deep hole of change. Their foods were being rationed and identity cards along with gas masks were being issued, something which fascinated Benjamin to no end. They avoided travelling up to London or any city at all costs and made sure they took all the necessary precautions.

Joseph had been writing to them every other day but his letters were usually filled with short, intentionally unhelpful updates and the antics of the other soldiers. Always he deliberately avoided any talk of his impending plans in the RAF.

Matthew tried to decipher his son's letters by corresponding them to everything he heard on the wireless and read in the papers. When Joseph wrote that he was to be moved to Belgium but wouldn't explain why, Matthew matched his letter to the morning headline and discovered that the British forces were moving to the Belgian boarder in anticipation for a German invasion from the west. Matthew then locked himself in his study and refused to emerge until dinner.

Sybil had written to Mary a few times to mention that Tommy was doing well all though she still wished he could come back home. Mary's heart ached at the thought of her son and nephew out there. Her poor mother must be beside herself. As news of Europe's suffering was thrust in their faces every morning at breakfast with the morning paper, Mary had seriously considered sending her daughters and Benjamin to New York to stay with Edith but they were adamant against it. Georgina even taunted her parents with her plans of helping Isobel out in a London hospital and becoming an ambulance woman.

* * *

><p>Now Georgina Crawley had always been used to receiving letters from her brother. Ever since Joseph left for University, he had always written to her frequently. Usually they were about University life, his classes, social events, his shameless boasting about his position on the Cambridge rowing team or just to give her advice in general. But when this specific letter arrived at the post office, written in Joseph's hurried scrawl, Georgina almost ripped it in her haste to open it.<p>

_Dear Georgina_

_I have been staring at this paper for half an hour trying to think of how to write this properly and not sound selfish or imprudent. First of all I must ask, how are you? How is the family? Is Mama and Papa all right? Is Edward and Rebecca getting along better now? And is Benji holding up well?_

"As well as can be expected Joseph," Georgina murmured.

_I miss each and every one of you, but the main reason I wrote this letter to you is to tell you something that I know you won't like but I have to tell you anyway. I have been offered a transfer to the Second Infantry Division and (before you react just know that it's my decision) I have decided to accept it._

"Oh God no he hasn't," Georgina breathed, flipping over the letter to continue reading.

_I have enjoyed my little time in the RAF but it just isn't the right place for me now. Not yet anyway. I'm not saying I'll never go back to it but I've learnt not to think too far into the future, that's one of my reasons for accepting the transfer. Please respect my decision to do this as I was told (not manipulated) that the British Army is suffering a loss of young men at the moment. More men are going to get conscripted soon but I don't want people thinking that I've joined the RAF as a way of escaping the army and doing my duty on the front. I may be many things but I'm certainly not a coward._

"Oh of course not." Georgina muttered bitterly.

_I leave for France in the morning, my commander Major General Henry Lloyd is very warm and welcoming so no need to worry Georgie, I'm in good hands!_

"No you're not, they're just people Joe. They can't protect you on the battlefield." Georgina sighed.

_I have a cheeky favour to ask you. Please break the news to Mama and Papa for me - that is why I wrote this letter to you directly, as I know you can tell them as gently as possible._

"Oh the audacity! And you say you you're not a coward!" Georgina muttered icily.

_I once again give you all my love and trust you are all well._

_All my love_

_Joe._

_P.S I keep your locket close to my heart as always. I just hope it brings me the luck I need on the battlefield._

Georgina needed to sit down. She groped her way towards a bench and re-read Joseph's letter three times, planning how she would tell her parents. She felt a salty tear slip down her cheek and splash onto the paper.

"Are you all right Miss?"

A kind, deep voice startled Georgina. Her head snapped up. She was gazing into the most startlingly green eyes she had ever seen. They belonged to a young man around the age of nineteen, maybe twenty. He had soft brown hair and was incredibly handsome. He clutched his hat nervously in his hands as Georgina noticed him.

"Oh? I – uh – I was just reading a letter from my brother." Georgina sniffed. She brushed off her tear, "He's off fighting in the war."

"Ah." The boy sat down next to her. "I don't envy him. I'm being called up next week."

"You don't look very old."

"I've just turned twenty." He replied.

Georgina let out a tinkling laugh, "That's older than Joe!"

"Your brother?" The boy asked quietly.

Georgina nodded. The boy was silent for a few seconds. Then he offered her his hand. "I'm Dominic by the way, Dominic Hamilton."

"I'm -"

"Oh I already know who you are!" Dominic interrupted quickly.

Georgina raised her eyebrow coyly. "Oh you do, do you?"

"Of course I do! Everyone knows you. You're Lady Georgina Crawley. You're the eldest daughter of the Earl of Grantham," Dominic said with a small smirk. "I'm also guessing that Joe is Joseph Crawley. He used to share a dormitory with my cousin, at Cambridge. He's just joined the fourth division."

Georgina felt herself blush. "All right. I suppose you do know who I am. And my family. I still don't know who you are."

Dominic shrugged and leaned back with a grin. "What do you want to know about me? There's lot's to tell."

Georgina's heartbeat quickened at his smile but she held her cool composure. "How about your family?"

"Well, my family own a large toy factory in London. We own a chain of shops in London, Paris and New York. I actually live in London but I've got relatives down here that I want to say goodbye to before – before I leave." Dominic added hastily.

Georgina nodded quickly, "Hamilton. I thought I recognized you from somewhere. Probably at someone's debutante ball." She sighed again and glanced down at her brother's letter. "So – which division are you going to be fighting in?"

"Oh I'm joining the RAF," Dominic answered tentatively.

Georgina's eyebrows raised in surprise, "That was where my brother was set to go."

"So what happened?"

Georgina swallowed, "Well – during the Summer when we all knew the war was approaching, Joseph decided he wouldn't return back to University and instead he enlisted in the army so he could get a head start in his training."

Dominic's eyes widened. "I bet your Mama and Papa were pleased."

Georgina tittered darkly, "You don't know the half of it. Mama was so angry. Papa was supportive but you could tell he was just as scared as she was, as we all were. Then when the news of the war broke out and everything was official he decided he wanted to join the RAF instead. So that was fine." She shook the letter at him, "But now he's written to me and said that he's accepted a transfer to the second division!" She couldn't stem the tears from flowing down her cheeks.

"Oh." It was all Dominic could say. He rootled in his pocket and extracted his handkerchief. "Here." He pressed it into her hand. "I promise it's clean."

Georgina gave him a watery chuckle and dabbed her eyes. "Thank you."

"I think it's sweet that you're so worried about your brother," Dominic said tenderly.

"Of course I am. He's my brother." Georgina smiled thinly, "We used to fight all the time when we were children but at the end of the day, family's family. My younger brother Edward will be gone soon and then we'd be really worried."

"Edward Crawley?" Dominic asked with a small grin.

"Yes. Why?"

"Oh nothing," He chuckled, "Let's just say that your brother is very popular in Eton."

"A popular troublemaker more like." Georgina grumbled, "He treats this war like a joke. I want to shake some sense into him!"

"I wish I had a brother." Dominic said wistfully.

"You're an only child?"

Dominic nodded. "Yes. Just me and the parents. Oh and a big, vulgar house in Mayfair." He added bitterly.

"That must be so hard for your parents," Georgina said tentatively, "Their only son going off to war."

"I don't really think they care to tell you the truth." Dominic replied indifferently. "They have their business to keep them occupied – and – and other things."

"Oh I'm sure that's not true!" Georgina retorted stiffly. "They're your parents, of course they'd care about you, they love you!"

Dominic snapped his head towards Georgina, his eyes narrowing. "You really think so?"

"They have to." Georgina replied simply. "It's what families do, you may fight and have your differences but my Aunt Sybil said that war brings about different circumstances and I'm sure that -"

"I don't mean to sound rude Lady Georgina, but not all families are perfect like yours!" He interrupted acidly.

Georgina flinched, "Excuse me?" She responded coldly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you shouldn't be making assumptions without knowing the whole story!" Dominic answered angrily, his green eyes flaring.

"I was only trying to help," Georgina said frostily, eyeing him with dislike, "You don't need to be such a prig about it!"

"Maybe you should just stick to your sewing princess," Dominic scoffed.

"Right!" Georgina stood up quickly and adjusted her hat, her cheeks flushing with rage, "Well Mr Hamilton, it's already been an unpleasant morning and I'd like to thank you for making it even worse!" She said tartly.

A flash of regret and compassion appeared in Dominic's eyes but he stubbornly stood up and crammed his hat on his head. "Pleasure's all mine." He responded sourly.

"I bid you good day and such good luck in the war!" Georgina said coolly.

"I bid you good day and such good luck in life!" Dominic retorted bitingly.

Desperate to have the last word Georgina added cuttingly, "I hope you don't die!" She had instantly regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth but she was far too proud to apologize to him. Especially as he was the one who started it the first place! So she ignored the stunned and hurt look in his beautiful green eyes as she turned on her heel with her nose in the air and like the lady she was, she flounced back to the house.

"Insufferable boy!" She breathed furiously to herself.

* * *

><p><em><strong>12:34pm<strong>_

Georgina decided she'd wait till lunch to tell her family. As it was a Saturday they were all eating together. She hurried into the dining room just as Cutler was cleaning up Benjamin's spilt soup.

"Remember to sip not slurp Benji," Mary said patiently to her youngest son.

"I was sipping!" Benjamin retorted indignantly.

"Sorry I'm late!" Georgina apologized breathlessly as she dashed into the dining room and swiftly took her place at the table.

"Where have you been?" Edward asked slyly, he had a twinkle in his eye like he knew something he shouldn't.

"I was just out walking and lost track of the time." Georgina answered dismissively, sipping her soup elegantly.

"Oh, that's nice dear." Mary said absently staring at her eldest daughter. There was a certain glow about her that she had once seen on her own face long ago.

"Did you meet anyone special while you were out on your – uh – walk?" Edward asked in an innocent voice tinged with ridicule. The bright sunlight streaming in through the window shone on his blond hair like a halo however he was far from it.

Georgina paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. She narrowed her eyes at her brother. "No one you would care about!" She replied icily.

"That's interesting." Edward said shrewdly, his dark brown eyes gleaming, "Because I was riding Chestnut today. And I thought I saw you – or at least someone who looked very much like you - sitting on the bench by the post office."

"Did you now?" Georgina asked politely through gritted teeth. "And what, may I ask, did you think you saw?

Matthew watched the exchange between his children with concealed amusement. Rebecca glanced between her brother and sister in confusion. Benjamin just continued to nip at his soup.

"Well." Edward stared at his sister and smirked evilly. "I saw you flirting with a young man."

Georgina and Rebecca's eyes grew wide, Matthew choked on his bread, Cutler accidently overfilled Benjamin's juice and Mary dropped her spoon with a loud clatter.

"Excuse me?" She gasped.

"Edward!" Matthew rasped, his eyes watering, "That is hardly appropriate conversation for the table. What a thing to say to your sister!"

"Were you Georgie?" Rebecca asked in surprise.

Georgina blushed furiously. "Unbelievable!" She slammed her napkin on the table in anger, "You were spying on me!"

Matthew gaped at his eldest daughter with his mouth open, feeling completely lost and slightly unnerved. "Wait, now, now just wait a minute. You mean it's true?" He sputtered, running his hand through his sandy hair in agitation. "I just thought it was Edward being – Edward but - you – you -"

"Were flirting with a young man?" Mary finished lightly, "On a bench?"

"Outside the post –office." Edward added simply, helping himself to a bread roll.

"Oh of course I wasn't flirting Mama, don't be silly!" Georgina responded in embarrassment, shooting her brother another deathly glare.

"What does flirting mean?" Benjamin asked interestedly.

"Nothing Benji!" Matthew said quickly.

"By the way, I wasn't spying, I told you I happened to ride down the street!" Edward retorted vigorously.

"Edward -"

"That's rubbish!" Georgina snapped. "You just couldn't wait to stir this one up!"

"What's Edward stirring?" Benjamin asked in confusion.

"It's just a figure of speech Benji," Matthew said flippantly, "So you were talking to a total stranger?" He fired at his daughter.

Georgina huffed, "Oh for heaven sake! I was upset and he was comforting me all right!"

"Who was he?" Rebecca pressed.

"No one from around here." Georgina answered curtly.

"So he doesn't live here," Mary said as steadily as she could. "Well, that certainly is comforting!"

"If you must know," Georgina said frigidly, "He was not so much a gentleman than he was an insufferable prig!"

Matthew breathed a small sigh of relief. "Really?"

"Yes Papa. Really."

"Why were you so upset Georgina?" Benjamin asked softly.

Georgina shut her eyes and sighed, her fingers brushing over the letter which was folded tightly in her skirt pocket.

"Darling?" Mary prompted in concern.

Georgina couldn't see any way out of this one. "I'll tell you after lunch if that's all right." She said shortly.

"Fine. Let's just eat." Matthew replied in a clipped voice.

They continued to eat their lunch in silence. Every now and then there would be the occasional sad glimpse at Joseph's empty seat.

"I wonder what Joe's eating now?" Edward wondered out loud.

Georgina pursed her lips tightly. Mary and Matthew exchanged troubled glances.

"Wherever he is and whatever he's doing," Mary responded evenly, "I'm sure he's all thinking of us."

"Yes," Matthew added inaudibly taking a large gulp of wine.

They lapsed into more uncomfortable silence. The only sound was the clatter of cutlery on plates and Benjamin humming softly to himself.

"Mama," Rebecca announced suddenly, "Won't it be so much easier pretending that Joseph is simply away at school? That way in won't be so hard to miss him!"

"No Rebecca!" Mary snapped. Rebecca blanched, Mary saw this and immediately softened. "What I mean darling, is that we mustn't pretend. We have no choice but to face the truth, no matter how awful it is."

After lunch was cleared away Matthew turned to Georgina, "Now darling why were you so upset earlier?"

Cursing Joseph in her mind for dropping her in this predicament, Georgina carefully extracted the letter from her pocket. "I received this at the post office today," She said tentatively, smoothing it out in front of them. "It's a letter from Joseph."

The relaxed atmosphere that had settled briefly into the dining room suddenly became immensely tense.

"What?" Mary breathed her dark brown orbs glowing with excitement and trepidation. "Did I just hear you right? You received a letter from Joseph? Our Joseph?"

"Yes."

"Joe! See, I told you he would write some more!" Benjamin exclaimed smugly.

"But why did he write to just you?" Edward asked.

Georgina swallowed, feeling her family's eyes burning on her. "Well he wanted to write to you all but he thought I would be better suited to tell you myself." She muttered.

Mary's hand fluttered to her throat to fiddle with her necklace. Matthew struggled to find the right words to say.

"Tell us what?" He finally prompted.

"What's he done now?" Mary whispered.

"He has some important news," Georgina replied consistently, deliberately not making eye contact with her mother. "He writes to say that he's been offered a transfer to - to the second division." Georgina paused, her heart hammering with dread. She could practically hear her parents hold their breath. "And he's decided to take it."

"No!" Mary retorted sharply. "No, he can't do that – he can't – can he?" She turned to her husband in desperation.

Matthew's lips grew tighter and tighter until they formed a thin, grim line. "Yes he can." He said distantly.

"I – I didn't know they were allowed to do that," Edward said fearfully.

"Well apparently they can and they did." Matthew countered with a slight edge to his voice.

"Papa what does this mean for him?" Edward asked in trepidation.

Matthew hesitated. "Rebecca darling - can you please take Benjamin outside," He ordered firmly.

Rebecca stared at her father in disbelief, "But Papa I want to hear -"

"Please!" He interrupted sharply.

Rebecca straightened up in a huff and turned to her little brother. "Come on Benji, let's go outside and play catch."

"But I want to hear what Joe has to say about the war?" Benjamin moaned.

"Oh you will Benji. Sooner than you think!" Edward grumbled.

"Edward!" Mary hissed before turning patiently to her young son. "Benji we'll tell you afterwards just go outside and play with your sister all right?"

"Yes Benji let's go outside and play," Rebecca added, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She led Benjamin outside, Cutler shut the door on his way out so they were left in privacy.

Matthew slugged some more wine. When he finally set his glass down, he turned to his daughter. "Right. Georgina what exactly did Joseph say?"

"Read it for yourself Papa!" Georgina cried, brandishing the letter at her father. "He says that he doesn't want to be in the RAF anymore, that they're running short on men and he feels it is his duty to fight!"

"Oh now that's ridiculous!" Mary counteracted, "Boys and men are being conscripted as we speak! That is just a manipulation to thrust a perfectly healthy young man in front of the enemy!"

"He mentions that in the letter too," Georgina said tiredly.

"I don't believe this," Matthew murmured as he scanned the letter. "He's leaving for France tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!" Mary shrieked. Edward's face paled.

"That's what he says here," Matthew said hoarsely, shaking the letter. "He's to be out there properly Mary." He flicked his terrified eyes to his wife, "He's actually going to be on the battlefield."

"On – on the battlefield," Mary repeated in a shaken voice, "You – you mean he'd really be in front of all those bullets and bombs?"

"Yes," Matthew rubbed his chin in agitation, "Why did they have to offer him this damn transfer? They knew he wouldn't refuse! By doing this they've only placed him in more danger!"

"Would flying in the sky among enemy bombs be any safer?" Edward re-joined incredulously.

"What are you saying?" Mary asked insipidly.

"I'm saying that Joe left the RAF and joined the second division because that's who he is and what he wanted to do!" Edward answered proudly, "No one made him do it, he did it because it was his choice! He's not a child anymore; he can make his own decisions! And he's in no more danger now than he was yesterday!"

With those words Edward rose and stormed out of the dining room, slamming the door behind him.

"Edward -" Mary tried to rise from her seat in order to follow her son but Matthew gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down.

"Leave him be." He said calmly. "He needs some time."

"Poor darling," Mary sighed, her head lolling into her palm. "He's worried about his brother."

"I didn't realize he could be so empathic," Georgina said crisply.

"Well that's just it sweetheart," Matthew replied in a tender yet stressed voice, "I don't think that speech was entirely about Joseph."

* * *

><p><strong>October 15th 1939<strong>

Georgina unpacked her stationary set and smoothed out her delicate pink paper. She began to head the date and immediately poured all her frustration into her reply letter.

_Dear Joseph_

_Never mind the polite pleasantries, how dare you place me in such a predicament! Honestly, asking me to tell Mama and Papa like that - you really are unbelievable!_

_As you anticipated the news did not sit very well with them, or me, or Edward for that matter. He tries to pretend that he doesn't care but Papa just seems to think he's scared about going off to war himself but of course he won't actually admit it, this is Ed we're talking about. Write to him Joe, tell him something encouraging, you're the only one who can._

She paused, thinking what else to write.

_Mama and Papa send their love, as does Granny and Grandmama. Rebecca and Benjamin are both doing well as can be expected, of course we're all worried about you and Benji keeps asking all sorts of questions. Please don't make it hard for us to answer them Joe, he was ever so thrilled when your last letter came. He seems to think this is all some sort of game._

_Additionally, in your next letters please explain to us in detail of what is going on. Papa keeps reading your letters and then hears things on the news, puts two and two together and comes up with seven!_

_Other than that – I trust you are well?_

_Stay safe Joe._

_Your loving sister_

_Georgina_

_P.S. You'd better keep my locket safe or else!_

Georgina sealed the letter with her signature squirt of her flowery perfume. She slipped the letter into the envelope and rushed off to the post office to mail it.

* * *

><p><strong>6:12pm<strong>

That Sunday evening Edward returned to Eton leaving the rest of the house to bathe in its tense atmosphere. Matthew sat in his favourite armchair in the library just staring into space, a glass of scotch balancing in his fingertips while he listened listlessly to the wireless. Mary was sewing a button on one of Benjamin's shirts, her ears perked for any mention of the war while Benjamin played on the floor with his train set, completely lost in his own world. Georgina tried to concentrate on her French verbs but it was so hard to focus when they were living on eggshells.

Rebecca was tucked away in the corner of the room sitting cross-legged on the window seat, her nose buried in a book. As she turned the pages she hummed softly to herself. Georgina recognized the tune as 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow,' from the Wizard of Oz. Their mother had taken them to see it just before war had broken out and ever since then, Rebecca wouldn't stop singing that damned song. Georgina just felt like screaming at her to stop, that it was all dreams, silly, childish fantasy dreams that would never come true, that there was no such place! But she bit her tongue. Who was she to destroy a young girl's dream?

* * *

><p><strong>October 19th 1939<strong>

_**8:38am**_

"Do you think we're going to need to build an air raid shelter?" Rebecca asked her sister as they walked to school that morning.

Benjamin clung to both his sister's hands and dawdled impatiently between them. "What's an air raid shelter?" He asked curiously.

"It's something they're building in London." Georgina explained carefully. "It's for their protection. I don't think we're going to have one here. The countryside is hardly on their radar."

"But I heard Papa saying to Granny that the railroads are all going to be targets. Including ours." Rebecca countered fearfully. "Is that true?"

Georgina shrugged. "I don't know Becky." She answered truthfully. "No one tells us anything because we're girls."

"I'm not a girl!" Benjamin retorted hotly.

Georgina and Rebecca giggled. "You're right Benji!" Georgina said, still chuckling. "You're a child!"

"I'm not a child I'm a boy!" Benjamin stated in annoyance.

"Yes and what a fine boy you are!" Rebecca responded in amusement.

"Do you think I can become a soldier like Joe?" Benjamin asked with anticipation.

The smiles slipped off the girls faces. "Oh – well – we'd have to see." Georgina said hurriedly. They passed by the post-office, Georgina hung back expectantly. "You go on ahead. I'll catch you up." She told Rebecca before darting inside the post office. Sure enough Joseph had written her a reply letter back. She quickly peeled it open and sat on her usual bench to read it.

_Dear Georgina_

_I must say I laughed out loud when I read your reply letter. It was so like you, it was almost as if you were in the trench with me. Thank you for telling Mama and Papa Georgina, I knew you'd complain but I also knew you'd do it._

_You know it's funny the kinds of things you miss when you're in a situation like this. I miss the simple things such as playing sport, rowing, checking the stock market with Papa or even just drinking in the pub with my friends. It's better than necking brandy out of a tin flask!_

"Necking!" Georgina snorted, "You should hear yourself Joe."

_I also find myself missing things I used to hate. Like revising for exams! I never thought I'd miss that!_

_Furthermore, I was going to write to Edward like you asked me to but then I realized he doesn't need my advice. Edward is a stubborn, egotistical boy who behaves like a spoiled child most of the time simply because he feels that he doesn't have a duty to fulfil, unlike me with my inheritance of Downton or you and your future as the eldest daughter. Nevertheless, I shall attempt to write to him and explain the consequences he'll have to endure if he doesn't grow up soon. I'll talk to him about something encouraging – I don't know what but I'm sure I'll find something._

_Also, I understand what you mean when you want me to explain more about what's going on but I genuinely can't Georgina. Do you think I just mail this letter off and it goes directly to you? Of course it doesn't, who knows how many people have handled this!_

Georgina unconsciously wiped her hand on her skirt and carried on reading.

_I miss Benji and Rebecca so much, I hope you can give them my love. Just reading you mentioning his incessant questions makes me wish I were with you right now to answer them. Please understand that I wasn't trying to cause any trouble by joining the second division, it was something I had to do and I have no regrets. Well, none so far anyway._

Georgina closed her eyes, wishing she hadn't read that last sentance.

_Now finally onto some good news. I have a few days leave owed to me so I hope to be with you all shortly - touch wood!_

"We've never stop touching it Joe," Georgina whispered as she knocked on the benched.

_Hopefully we can all discuss the matter then, face to face. Anything Mama and Papa want to say to me, they can ask me directly. Thank you once again for telling them for me. You really are an amazing sister. Take care Georgina._

_All my love_

_Joe._

_P.S. You'll be pleased to know that your locket is still in good shape. As am I. (Touch wood.)_

Georgina folded the letter up and stuffed it inside her bag. She wiped away her stray tears and hurried off to school.

* * *

><p>To Be Continued...<p> 


	5. Innocence

**Author's Note:**Sooo sorry for the delay in updating but I'm back on track now! Firstly a HUGE thank you to those who reviewed and added this story to alerts and favourites etc. I hope I've answered some of the pointers that a couple of you pointed out like did the children go to school during wartime, not in the city but in the countrysides they did because it wasn't a target. And as for the letter timing thing - it's fanfiction right? But I AM trying to keep up to date with the WW2 timeline (thanks to wikipedia)

Anyway this chapter is split in two parts - you'll see why so sit back and enjoy

Also - feel free to hit Edward at the end if you want.

Oh and please review! :D

* * *

><p><strong>Innocence<strong>

_**November 1st 1939**_

_**9:30am**_

"Why do we still have to go to school Mama?" Rebecca whined that morning at breakfast, "All the schools in London are closed so how come ours isn't?"

"Because we don't live in London do we?" Edward interjected tetchily. He dug his spoon into his melon in a huff, "We live in the countryside where nothing remotely interesting is bound to happen."

"You say that as though you're disappointed," Matthew said evenly, carefully watching his son.

Edward shrugged, "I'm not disappointed just – bored I suppose."

Mary sucked in her breath sharply and glared pointedly at Matthew who returned a weary look which said, 'don't rise to it.' Mary tucked in the corners of her lips and began furiously slicing her bacon.

"How come Edward's going to your school?" Benjamin asked Georgina curiously.

"Because Mama and Papa don't want me to go back to big boy school that's why." Edward answered glumly.

"We're just trying to think of your best interests Edward, there's no need to sound so unpleasant." Matthew chided over the top of his morning paper.

"Or course," Edward scoffed, "Because the Nazis have nothing better to do than to bomb a private school in the middle of nowhere!"

"Edward Samuel Crawley!" Mary cautioned, slamming her fork down, "I will not have such talk at the breakfast table, you know that!"

"I'm just trying to make a point!" Edward retorted irritably, "I am going to be called in four months you know!"

"All right we know that!" Georgina snapped as she adopted the exact expression as her mother. "Is that your only point?"

"Why don't you just go back to your sewing or whatever it is that you women do!" Edward responded scathingly.

"Edward do not talk to your sister like that!" Matthew thundered.

"What's a Nazi?" Benjamin piped up with interest.

Georgina dropped her spoon with a loud clatter. Everyone glanced at the youngest Crawley, their minds working furiously as to what to say.

"A Nazi – is a very bad person – who does…" Mary trailed off and looked to her husband for help.

"Very bad things!" Matthew finished with a forced smile at his youngest.

"Are we going to have Nazis here in England?" Benjamin asked worriedly.

"No!" Edward replied in disgust, "That's why we're going off to war!"

"So who's Hitler?" Benjamin enquired, "I thought you were going to fight him."

"Yes and no," Matthew answered patiently, "Hitler is the leader of the Nazis."

"Why don't we stop having this conversation," Mary interrupted in a polite yet slightly hysterical voice.

Matthew pursed his lips and carried on scanning the morning paper. Benjamin pouted and poked his boiled egg with his spoon. He was getting fed up of not having his questions answers.

"Good God!" Matthew exclaimed suddenly, prompting everyone at the table to jump in alarm.

"What on earth?" Mary reacted in surprise. "Is there too much salt…?" She commented with a cheeky glint in her eye.

Matthew's lips twitched into a smile but it vanished as soon as he glanced back at the paper, "I've just read something in here that's – well – not very pleasant about Germany."

"Tell us Papa," Rebecca said gravely.

"They're – they're just forcing jews out of their homes and doing – some very unpleasant things to them," Matthew replied passively, casting an uneasy glance at Benjamin who was clearly earwigging their every word.

"That's terrible!" Georgina gasped. "Oh those poor people."

"Does that include children as well Papa?" Rebecca asked tentatively.

"Yes I think so sweetheart," Matthew answered quietly.

"Why don't they like the jews?" Benjamin cheeped interestedly.

"Right, no more talking, eat your breakfast up young man!" Mary said airily, forcibly ending their conversation.

* * *

><p><em><strong>November 5th 1939<strong>_

The day before Joseph's nineteenth birthday, the family received a telegram from the war office stating that Joseph had decided to postpone his leave but he wouldn't give them any more information, something which angered Mary to no end. She tried to push Matthew into giving her an answer but he persisted that he knew as much as she did which just infuriated Mary even more.

As soon as war had broken out Benjamin Daniel Crawley had become increasingly unnerved by his parents cantankerous behaviour and retreated into his playroom more and more. So this day bore no difference as Matthew and Mary continued to holler at each other from the drawing room. Benjamin just busied himself with his train set, remembering happier times he used to know.

**_May 30th 1938_**

_"Do you like your birthday present Benji?" Matthew asked fondly as the Crawley boys were crouched on the floor of the playroom, strewn with obscure pieces of wooden tracks._

_"But we haven't put it together yet!" Benjamin exclaimed incredulously._

_"We're nearly done." Matthew reassured. "And then it'll run properly!"_

_"Can I be the conductor!" Benjamin squealed._

_Matthew chuckled and lifted him up, "You're the birthday boy! Of course you can!" He placed a small conductors hat on his son's head._

_"I'm the conductor!" Benjamin told his brothers proudly._

_"Aren't you too small to be a conductor?" Edward asked with a smirk. Matthew rolled his eyes._

_"No! I'm five now!" Benjamin retorted crossly. "I'm a big boy now and soon I''l be going to big boy school like you and Joe!"_

_"Yes you will, just ignore him Benji, he'll never be a good conductor - he's too impatient!" Joseph whispered with wink._

_Benjamin giggled. _

_"How's the construction coming along?" Matthew asked in amusement, nodding at the rail set which was being carefully assembled by his two elder sons. _

_"Nearly - done!" Joseph said in a strained voice as he attatched a rather complicated plank to another with incredible speed. "That just leaves this part..." He checked the instructions, "And this together..."_

_"I think this piece goes in here," Edward said as he inserted a larger piece of wood into a smaller piece and tried to force it in._

_Joseph sniggered, "Actually I think this piece," he prised the piece of wood out of Edward's hand and slid it easily into the accurate slot, "Goes in here like this."_

_"Well done." Matthew praised, impressed._

_"Show off," Edward muttered._

_"Let's see how it runs now Benji!" Joseph said with such excitement._

_"Put the train on." Matthew ordered with a grin as he set his youngest down and handed him the delicate train._

_Benjamin obediently placed the train on the track and watched in fascination as Joseph flicked the switch on the side of the engine which brought the train to life. The Crawley boys watched in awe as the train sped round and round the track, under bridges, over bridges, through tunnels and past the tiny wooden shops which was carved with such intricate detail._

_"Oh my goodness!" Benjamin breathed in astonishment._

_"Happy birthday Benji," Joseph said with a warm smile._

"Benji did you take the buttons I left on my bedside table?" Edward's annoyed voice interrupted Benjamin's happy memory. He lounged against the doorframe with his arms crossed. "They fell off my blazer and I left them there this morning so Caroline can sew them back on. They're missing now. Have you got them?"

Benjamin guiltily stared at his older brother and didn't say a word. Edward heaved an impatient sigh and stomped into the room, "How many times have I told you not to come into my room without knocking?"

"I did knock!" Benjamin protested, "But you weren't there, you were riding Chestnut."

Edward gaped at him in bewilderment, "So if you already knew that then why did you – never mind, did you take my buttons or not?"

"Yes," Benjamin answered sheepishly, "I was just using it as tyres. I was going to give them back." He scooped up the buttons from his pocket and dropped them into Edward's waiting hand.

"Thank you." Edward started to leave when Benjamin called him back.

"Eddie?"

"What now?"

"Why isn't Joe coming home for his birthday?" Benjamin asked uneasily, "Doesn't he want to see us anymore?"

"Of course he does!" Edward squeezed himself into one of Benjamin's small chairs. "He's just very busy that's all. Being a soldier isn't all about marching up and down like them," He gestured to Benjamin's wooden soldiers which were dumped in a pile next to the train track. "There's so much more to it I don't even know where to begin."

"But you're going to be very busy too, maybe more than Joe." Benjamin said lightly, "You're going to be a doctor like Grandpa Reg, so you're going to be very busy."

"Well, I'm training as a medic, there's a small difference." Edward said indifferently. "And I am still going to be a soldier. You see, there are soldiers that need special medical help and I'm going to be helping them – as well as fighting."

"You mean you can do both?" Benjamin asked, his blue eyes widening. Edward nodded. "Oh, I didn't know that." He turned back to his train set, "I don't know anything. Nobody tells me things. They don't think I'm big enough."

"They used to be like that with me too," Edward said bitterly. "I had to find out about – things the hard way."

Benjamin stopped playing and stared at his brother. "What kind of things?"

Edward shook his head, "It won't make sense to you now. But my point Benji, is that if they had told me much sooner, I wouldn't have felt so – upset."

"Well I wish people would just tell me what's going on!" Benjamin huffed, "I'm not scared!"

"No you're not," Edward murmured, more to himself than his brother.

Benjamin continued to immerse himself in his game, all his troubles completely forgotten as he prodded his train along the track, giggling to himself and yelling orders at the stoic wooden figurines.

Edward watched his brother play for the longest time, contemplating what to do. He swallowed and glanced at the door to check they were alone before turning back to his brother, leaning forward and whispering, "Benji."

Benjamin snapped out of his make-believe world and gazed at his brother with his mouth slightly open. Edward faltered when he saw the innocence dancing warningly behind his brother's baby blue eyes. He wondered whether he was doing the right thing in telling him.

"I have to tell you something," Edward said thinly, reminding himself that Benjamin would thank him one day.

"What about?" Benjamin asked slowly.

"The war." Edward answered in hollow voice. "I think it's time you knew the truth – about what's really going on in Germany."

Benjamin's face lit up and he scrambled closer to Edward like a little puppy. "Tell me Eddie, please!" He begged.

"Shush!" Edward scolded, glancing back at the door. "You can't tell anyone Benji. I'm serious! What I'm going to say is highly confidential."

"What does con - condenfitial mean?"

Edward sighed impatiently and rolled his eyes, "Con - fi - den - tial! It means it's very secret. So you mustn't' tell anyone all right?"

Benjamin hesitated, "Not even Mama or Papa?"

"No!" Edward snapped hastily, "Especially not Mama or Pa -I mean it Benji, keep it a secret all right?"

Benjamin nodded enthusiastically. "All right Eddie, I won't tell anyone!"

Edward nodded slowly, "Good boy." He took a deep breath. "Do you know what Papa was saying this morning at the breakfast table? About the Nazis?"

Benjamin bobbed his head, his eyes looked like they were about to pop. "Yes."

"Well…."

* * *

><p>To Be Continued...<p> 


	6. Threnody Of The Nations

**Author's Note:**Thank you again for ALL the reviews, I'm glad to see your still gripped! Well here's the next part of the chapter which is LONG and has a very important flashback ;)

Enjoy and please tell me your thoughts!

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 6 - Threnody of the Nations<span>**

**_November 5th 1939_**

**_7:03pm_**

"Are you all right Benji, you seem awfully quiet?" Matthew commented softly that night at dinner.

Benjamin had been sitting in front of his dinner just staring at it with a troubled expression. He shot a furtive glance at Edward before answering quietly, "I'm not hungry."

"That's unlike you," Rebecca said with a small grin.

"Are you coming down with something darling?" Isobel asked in concern, pressing her palm to her grandson's forehead.

"I don't know Granny," Benjamin said irritably, twisting in his seat. "I'm – I'm just missing Joe."

There was a ripple of discomfort through the table.

"Oh darling," Mary muttered, "We're all missing him."

"It's his birthday tomorrow," Cora said with a sad smile, "I can't bear the thought of him spending his birthday without his family."

"I know Mama, neither can I." Mary said curtly.

They continued to eat in silence, throughout the entire meal Benjamin's unease continued to grow and grow as he thought about the conversation he had with Edward earlier on that day.

"I don't feel well!" He cried suddenly, startling everyone out of their thoughtful stupor.

"Are you going to be sick?" Rebecca asked in alarm, ready to leap out of her seat if necessary.

Benjamin shrugged, his small lips quivering. He looked very shaken.

"Maybe you should go up to bed sweetheart," Mary said gently. She exchanged a puzzled glance with her husband. She turned to Cutler, "Mr Cutler can you ask Mrs Kenton to take Benji up-"

"I'll take him Mama!" Edward interjected quickly, rising from his seat and hurrying over to his brother. "Come on Benji let's go upstairs."

"It's really no trouble Master Edward I can send for Mrs Kenton," Cutler said hurriedly.

"No, no I'll take him, thank you Cutler," Edward replied swiftly.

"Thank you Edward that's – unusually kind of you," Matthew said in surprise as he watched his sons scurry out of the dining room.

"War certainly brings out the best in people, even to the aberrant son." Isobel sighed as she took a large gulp of wine.

"Mama," Matthew chided sternly. "Edward's trying his best now that Joe's away, we can't fault him for that."

Edward ushered his brother further down the hallway and checked to see if they were alone. "Benji you can't act like this," Edward whispered, "You're going to make everyone suspicious."

"I'm sorry Edward!" Benjamin moaned, shuffling his little feet, "But I keep thinking about what you told me – I don't want to be taken away from my family!"

"You won't!" Edward hissed impatiently. "I told you, it's only happening in Germany and – other places – but not here all right?"

Benjamin nodded, unconvinced.

Edward sighed and crouched in front of his brother. "Benji I told you what I did because I believe you can handle it. Do you want to make me regret telling you?"

Benjamin fiercely shook his head.

"Right. Come on, let's go." Edward tenderly took his little brother's hand and led him upstairs. He helped Benjamin get ready for bed and even went as far as reading him Peter Pan.

"So you see," Edward said simply as he closed the book, "Everything turned out fine."

"Read it again!" Benjamin ordered sleepily.

Edward chuckled, "You're so cheeky! But I think you're tired so I should let you get some sleep all right?"

Benjamin nodded and yawned. "Night…Edward…" he drifted off into a deep sleep, disappeared in his own world.

* * *

><p><em><strong>11:24pm<strong>_

"Why is Joe not coming home Georgina?" Rebecca asked her sister as they were seated on Georgina's room. The sound of their parent's hollow voices echoed down the hall towards them but they were so used to it now, it seemed normal.

Georgina shrugged as she unpinned her curls. "I don't know Becky. Honest."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "Yes you do. He writes to you."

"Twice." Georgina corrected firmly. "He wrote to me twice and that was weeks ago."

"Why won't anyone tell me what's going on?" Rebecca moaned. "I'm thirteen!"

"I know Becky," Georgina said through gritted teeth. "But trust me you don't want to know these things!"

Rebecca was about to reply coldly when they heard a door slam loudly in the distance. They jumped in shock.

"Rebecca go to bed," Georgina said quietly.

Rebecca tried to hold her tears in as she stormed out of her sister's room. Georgina heaved a defeated sigh. She stared into her mirror, desperately trying to remember happier times.

_**June 22nd 1934**_

_"Come on Benji, you can do it!" Joseph coaxed gently. He was knelt on the grass beside his father, brother and grandfather while his mother, grandmother and sisters were huddled behind his baby brother._

_Georgina knelt down beside Benjamin, "Are you ready?" She breathed._

_Rebecca held on tightly to Benjamin's small wrist. "What if he falls?" She asked worriedly._

_Robert patted the grass, "He won't feel a thing!" he said with reassurance._

_"And if he falls it just means he's learning," Matthew said simply._

_Edward scoffed, "That doesn't make sense."_

_"You were like that," Robert retorted with a grin._

_Everybody chuckled while Edward blushed in embarrassment._

_Benjamin bounced up and down and laughed, wanting to be included with the family._

_"I think he's ready." Cora said softly, smiling at her youngest grandson._

_"Let him go," Mary said gently to her daughters._

_Benjamin wobbled as his sisters released his hands. Setting him free to find his own way. He focused on the loving faces in front of him and wanted to join them. He took a tentative step forward, then another and another until he found that he could balance on his own._

_"I don't believe it! He's walking!" Matthew exclaimed in delight as his son toddled hesitantly towards him, his eyes shining with love and trust for his father._

_"Come on Benji!" Rebecca cheered._

_"Well done my boy!" Robert laughed as Matthew caught his baby and swung him around and around. Benjamin squealed and clapped his plump hands._

_It couldn't have been a more perfect day. The sun was beaming pleasantly at them, blessing the Crawley family with love and happiness while Matthew and Joseph chased the girls around the garden as they screamed in delight. Then Matthew caught Mary and swung her round and round, as she laughed._

_"Caught you!" He exclaimed happily, planting a firm kiss on her lips._

_"Yuck!" Edward exclaimed in disgust. "Why do they always keep doing that? It's so irritating!"_

_"I think it's so romantic!" Georgina sighed. "I hope when I get married I'm every bit as happy as them!"_

_"Me too," Joseph added diffidently._

A beautiful sound emerging from downstairs, broke Georgina out of her pleasant reverie. Curiously she slipped on her dressing gown and padded downstairs to listen. It was coming from the drawing room. Georgina smiled to herself. Pachelbel's Canon. She tiptoed into the room and peered inside.

Seated at the piano was her mother, her dark curls tumbled loosely across her shoulders. Mary was so lost in the music, she didn't hear her daughter creep quietly behind her. Georgina sniffed, a tear, very much like a raindrop meandered down her cheek. Her mother played with such a passion it took her breath away. Mary stopped abruptly and whipped around, startled.

"Georgina!" Mary breathed, her hand on her chest. "You gave me a fright."

"I'm sorry Mama," Georgina said softly. She sat down next to her mother, "I just heard you playing and I had to come down and listen. It's so beautiful, you play wonderfully. How come you don't play anymore like you used to?"

"Oh but I do." Mary replied with a sad smile. "Whenever I feel stressed. Or sad. I just come here and play."

"That's what I do too!" Georgina exclaimed in surprise. She caught a sight of their reflection, seated together at the piano. People always commented that Mary and Georgina looked more like sisters than mother and daughter, with their dark hair, red lips and pale complexion. In fact Mary and Georgina looked more like each other than they did their own sisters. Georgina couldn't have agreed more at that moment, especially as Mary still looked quite young for her age.

Mary tucked a strand of her daughter's hair behind her ear, "I'm so lucky to have you here." She whispered earnestly.

Georgina fiddled with the ribbon on her nightdress. "Mama," She started hesitantly, "I was thinking that I could stay here and help with the evacuation scheme. I know nothing's been decided yet but I know Granny and Grandmama are very keen to take on as many children as possible and I know you and Papa were thinking of housing all the left over children."

"Yes," Mary sighed. "I feel so sorry for all those poor mothers who've lost their husbands and now have to send their children off to live with strangers for God knows how long!"

"But it's for their protection though."

"Yes but it's still hard to let them go. Thank God we don't live in the city! I just couldn't bear it if Rebecca or Benji had to be snatched away from me as well." Georgina rubbed her mother's arm soothingly. Mary ran her fingers along the keys wistfully. "It's Joe's birthday in a few minutes."

"I know Mama." Georgina replied quietly. "I hope he can know our love wherever he is."

"Nineteen." Mary murmured, staring off into the distance. She shook her head slightly, still in a daze. "Time creeps up on you so fast Georgina. One day you feel as young as the night and then you wake up and find your whole world is crashing down on you – again!"

"Oh Mama you're not old!" Georgina exclaimed, "All the women in the village are so envious of you and your beauty!"

Mary chuckled, "You're still so lovely!" She kissed her daughter's forehead and closed her eyes, breathing in her flowery smell. "My lovely, darling daughter. What a fine young lady you've become!"

"I've learnt from you Mama," Georgina said quickly, "I admire you."

Mary's smile wilted. "As much as I appreciate you for saying that darling – I must beg you to stop."

Georgina blanched, "What? Why?"

"You don't want to be me Georgina," Mary answered with a sad smile, "You really don't. I'm no one special, I'm just a human being. I have the same feelings and emotions as others do but I have to keep all my emotions in check because that is what is expected of me as the Countess. It was how I was brought up. And I don't want that for you."

Georgina looked at the piano, suddenly interested in the piano keys. She knew where this conversation was going.

"Never marry a man who treats you less than you deserve Georgina," Mary continued defiantly. "Just because you're a lady doesn't mean you're any less than them. I learnt that mistake the hard way!"

Georgina looked up in surprise, her heart beating faster. "Are you – are you talking about Papa?" She asked fearfully.

Mary stared at her in surprise, "Heavens no! No, your Papa has been so wonderful to me these past twenty years!"

"Then who were you talking about?" Georgina asked in confusuion.

"A man – from my past." Mary answered shortly. Georgina swallowed in anticipation. Never had her mother shared so much information about her past before her father. It was something she always neglected to talk about.

"You mean Patrick? The man you were betrothed to before you met Papa?"

Mary's lips thinned, "No he was all right. Boring but nice. No I'm talking about someone else."

"Who?" Georgina pressed.

Mary hesitated. Then she shook her head as though clearing away the cobwebs of memories which were still remaining in her mind. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does!" Georgina didn't mean to whine but she couldn't help it, "Please tell me Mama."

Mary shook her head again. "No. All I'm saying is, just make sure you marry a man who knows how lovely you are and can appreciate it. I don't want my daughter to be a doormat."

Georgina gave a hollow laugh, "Don't worry Mama that will never happen, I'm a Crawley!"

The clock struck midnight. It was officially Joseph's birthday. Mary and Georgina exchanged despondant glances.

"Come to the window," Mary whispered, squeezing her daughter's hand tenderly and pulling her away from the piano.

"What are we going to do?" Georgina asked in amusement. They stood by the window, letting the thin moonlight envelope them.

Mary pointed to the sky, "Look at the sky Georgie. It's the same moon, the same stars, the same sky that Joseph sees, wherever he is tonight."

"It's beautiful," Georgina sighed."I wish more than anything that he could come back."

"Me too darling." They held on tightly to each other and closed their eyes.

"Happy birthday Joseph, wherever you are," Georgina breathed delicately.

Mary unconciously placed her hand on her heart, all thoughts filled with love for her eldest child on this special day, "Happy birthday darling," She whispered in a fragile voice.

* * *

><p><em><strong>November 6th<strong>_

_**12:45am**_

Mary tiptoed back into her bedroom, proceeding to shut the door quietly so as not to wake her husband.

"You're up late."

Mary whipped around in shock as Matthew's deep voice sliced through the peaceful atmosphere. He was seated on the loveseat with a stack of newspapers folded at his side. She glowered at him and muttered tetchily, "What is it about this family that has a habit of creeping up on people?"

"I'm sorry," Matthew said quickly, rising to his feet. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just- I missed you. After our row. That's all." He turned away from her and began undressing.

Mary stared at him for a few moments in astonishment. "Oh. Well I was downstairs. Playing the piano." She said formally.

"I know." Matthew replied quietly, still keeping his back to her. "I heard you play. You still play so beautifully."

Mary's breath caught in her throat. "Thank you." She whispered, still keeping an eye on him. "I thought you'd like it."

Matthew stopped. His head lifted up slowly and he heaved a sigh. "Pachelbel's Canon."

Mary's eyes filled with tears and her fragile heart nearly tore as she heard the despair dripping from her husband's voice. Matthew turned towards his wife, his blue eyes swimming with tears that were about to spill.

"Do you still remember?" Mary asked in a hushed voice.

Matthew tilted his head to the side and stared at her raptly. "Of course."

**_April 6th 1920_**

_Matthew heard the sound from the moment Carson had welcomed him into the foyer. He recognized the tune instantly from his wedding, that wonderful moment when he saw his Mary gliding up the aisle towards him. As though in a trance he followed the beautiful notes as though they were calling him. Matthew saw his wife seated at the piano, her delicate fingers travelling up and down the keys, playing with such raw emotion. His eyes widened in astonishment. Mary? Oh you play so beautifully._

_His breath caught up in his throat as he carefully advanced towards her, worried he might disturb her playing. She felt him slide into the seat next to her but he remained patient and quiet until she had finished the song._

_"I didn't know you played so – well – beautifully." Matthew said softly._

_Mary shrugged, "I'm never one to boast."_

_Matthew chuckled. "My musical knowledge isn't very good….?"_

_"Canon in D concerto." Mary answered with a smile, "By Johann Pachelbel."_

_"Aah. Pachelbel." Matthew returned the smile. "I just know it as – our wedding song!"_

_Mary laughed and nudged him. "I'm surprised you even remember, the way you were gaping at me!"_

_"I was not gaping!" Matthew protested impishly. "I was merely admiring your astonishing beauty."_

_"Very good!" Mary responded coyly as she playfully pinched her husband's cheek._

_"Seriously Mary, you have an amazing gift." Matthew said sincerely. "I mean, gosh, the way you play. It tells a story."_

_"What kind of story?" Mary asked with a tender smile._

_"You tell me?" Matthew replied warmly._

_Right on cue, the bright sunlight broke through the windowpanes and gently consecrated her light onto the happy couple. Mary gazed towards the light with a contented smile on her face as it warmed her soul. She felt like it was a sign from above._

_"Well," She started to play the piece again, "Once upon a time there was a boy and a girl who were equally as stubborn as each other!"_

_Matthew chortled. "Go on."_

_Mary strummed the keys daintily and continued evenly, "Nevertheless, their attraction for each other was inevitable." She shot a smirk at her husband, "No matter how much they tried to deny it."_

_Matthew beamed. "I see." He said demurely._

_"They overcame so many obstacles that was sent to try them." Mary said modestly as her hands flowed up and down the piano, "But no matter what – they always, somehow found their way back to each other."_

_Matthew gently rubbed her neck as he listened to her play. She really did play spectacularly._

_"Finally, they got married." Mary glanced at him. He had his eyes closed and was listening to her play intently._

_"Then what happened?" Matthew asked absently._

_"Then … the end."_

_Matthew's eyes snapped open. "The end?" He countered incredulously._

_"Oh sorry!" Mary said quickly, "I mean, they lived happily ever after – then, the end!"_

_"And that's it?" Matthew asked dryly._

_Mary raised her eyebrows mockingly, "Really Matthew, how else do you want the story to end?"_

_"I don't know," Matthew huffed. "Maybe – some thoughts on how the girl feels about her new husband."_

_"But that's already tied into the song," Mary explained patiently, trying not to laugh at Matthew's boyish confusion. "Everything you hear is how the girl feels for the boy and vice versa."_

_"Oh right." Matthew replied shortly, still not quite understanding what she meant._

_"But you're right, the ending is far too abrupt," Mary said coquettishly._

_"So how do you want the story to end?" Matthew asked, his smile spreading back._

_"Well this song symbolizes their wedding right?"_

_"Yes."_

_"But maybe it could also be the symbol of something else. Something that shows the couple who finally became wed after everything that happened. It could be a song to tie up their happy ending once and for all." She said in a calm voice laced with excitement._

_Matthew turned to her in confusion. "What do you mean?"_

_Mary almost laughed out loud at the bemused look her husband was giving her, but she continued to focus on her music. "Well I think it would make a wonderful Christening song at the end of their story."_

_"A Christening song?" Matthew retorted in complete bewilderment._

_"Don't you think so darling?" Mary asked innocently._

_"Yes, I'm sure it would but that still doesn't -" Matthew broke off immediately, as her words finally sunk in. Mary continued to play, a smile leaking from her lips as she realized that he had worked out the ending._

_"Doesn't what?" Mary prompted in a light voice._

_Matthew's heart started to accelerate as he stared at his wife who was basking in the glowing sunlight. "Are you – are you – I mean – is there a chance that you might be…"_

_"Might be what?" Mary asked shrilly, clearly enjoying this._

_"Don't play with me Mary!" Matthew said in agitation as he grabbed her hands to make her stop playing, "Are you – I'm asking you if your -"_

_"For heaven's sake Matthew yes I'm pregnant!" Mary said consistently._

_Matthew stared at her in complete astonishment. Then his face broke into a wide grin and he pulled her close with an ecstatic laugh. "You mean I'm going to be a father?" He asked in a voice smothered with delight._

_"Yes."_

_"And you – Mary, you're going to be a mother?"_

_Mary laughed at his deliriousness, "Yes I suppose I am! I mean can you imagine me as a mother?"_

_"I've been thinking of nothing else!" Matthew answered cheekily, he planted a swift kiss on her ruby lips, "If someone had told me eight years ago that I'd be the one fathering Lady Mary Crawley's children I'd have either thought them very drunk or shaken their hand!"_

_"Matthew really!" Mary chided, feeling a blush creep up her neck. Matthew grabbed her face and kissed her again, long and senuously. "Well..."_

_"Oh Mary this is fantastic!" Matthew gasped as he pulled her in for another kiss and then leaped up from his seat, "Wait till we tell my mother, and your parents, oh and the servants! There's going to be a baby in the house! I'm going to be a father and you're going to be a mother!" He tapped a few random notes on the piano in his excitement, turned to his wife and cupped her face, gazing deeply into her dark brown eyes and muttered, "You have no idea how happy I am." He kissed his wife again and practically ran out of the music room._

_Mary giggled at his enthusiasm. She unconsciously placed her hands on her stomach and stared up at the ceiling. "Thank you," She whispered in a voice caked with content._

"That was such a wonderful moment." Matthew choked. "When you told me you were pregnant with Joe. I never dreamed something like that would happen after my injury. But then I'd never dreamed he'd be snatched away from me before he was even twenty. I just can't believe he's fighting in a war."

"Why is he postponing his leave Matthew?" Mary asked in a trembling voice. She pointed to the newspapers again, "What have you found out."

"Nothing," Matthew replied quickly.

Mary narrowed her eyes. "You're hiding something. I can't believe that in nearly twenty years of marriage you still don't know when I can tell you're lying!"

"Mary -"

"And do you know what really winds me up Matthew is that wartime is supposed to be a time to bring couples together not push them away!"

Matthew whipped around so fast Mary actually blanched, "I beg your pardon? Can you actually hear yourself? If anyone's pushing people away it's you!"

"Excuse me?" Mary gasped.

"You've got me, your mother, even your own children!" Matthew railed, counting them on each finger. "And you still push us away!"

"I do no such thing!" Mary retorted hotly. "And what do you mean still? I never pushed my children away!"

"No? When Joe was ready for public school I wanted him to go to Ripon Grammar so he'd be closer to home!" Matthew shouted, "But you and your parents and your grandmother talked me round into sending him to Eton! So I like the gull I am relented and packed him off. And any time, any of those precious days we could've spent with him has been wasted!"

"Don't put that one on me!" Mary hissed. "I only did that because Eton is -"

"Thriving for the future Earl of Grantham yes I know!" Matthew moaned in complete exhaustion due to hearing the same answer every time. "But I didn't protest did I?"

"Well you've certainly been holding onto that one for a very long time!" Mary stated acidly. "While you've opened the can, why don't you continue! Anymore you'd like to share?"

"Edward's motorcycle." Matthew replied immediately through gritted teeth.

Mary opened her mouth in disbelief, "Can you blame me? He could've killed himself, riding on one of those – things!"

"It wasn't a proper one!" Matthew protested.

"I don't care! I wanted him to continue riding horses, he loved doing that!" Mary retorted airily.

"I just wanted to broaden his horizons!" Matthew said cuttingly. "Try new – modern things!"

"Well I'm certainly not going to discourage him just because you -"

"Mama?" A little voice cheeped from the door.

Both Mary and Matthew turned in surprise to see their youngest son standing in the doorway, clutching his teddy bear. His hair was tousled but his eyes were wide with apprehension.

"Benji!" Matthew exclaimed in forced warmth, "What are you doing up? You should be asleep you have school tomorrow."

"I can't sleep I had a bad dream." Benjamin said defiantly, "And you and Mama are making too much noise."

Mary and Matthew glanced at each other guiltily. Matthew sighed and beckoned Benjamin closer.

"Why are you always fighting?" Benjamin asked as Matthew lifted him onto his lap. "Don't you like each other anymore?"

"Of course we do!" Mary answered with a tinkling laugh.

Benjamin frowned, "Then why are you fighting if you still like each other it doesn't make any sense!"

Matthew raised his eyebrows, "Don't you fight with your brothers and sisters?"

Benjamin nodded firmly, "All the time! Especially with Edward!"

"But you still love them don't you?" Matthew continued.

"Yes." Benjamin answered bashfully.

"Even Edward?"

"I suppose!" Benjamin sighed.

Matthew chuckled, "Well there you are then. That's what real love is Benji, when you can fight and argue with a person and they're still standing by your side the next morning." He shot a furtive glance at his wife who was leaning against the bedpost just watching them, a soft yet sad smile on her face.

Benjamin puckered his brow, "That doesn't sound very fair! What if they've had enough and just leave!" Benjamin looked straight at his mother. Matthew and Mary's eyes amplified as they comprehended just how perceptive their son really was.

"No one's going anywhere Benji," Mary said firmly.

Benjamin just shook his head sadly, "That's what you said when we were eating dinner and Papa said that Hit – Hitler had taken over Poland. Then Joe went to war and we haven't seen him."

"Oh Benji -"

"So why do you and Papa say such mean things?" He pressed.

Matthew sighed. "Benji – sometimes in a war… things become very complicated and sometimes people say a lot of things to each other. Angry things, because it's the only way they can get through this troubling time. But at the end of the day," He looked straight at Mary. "They always find their way back to each other."

Mary swallowed over the lump in her throat, tears leaking from her eyes. 'I love you.' She mouthed. Matthew smiled and nodded slowly.

Benjamin glanced at his mother. "Mama you're crying!" He exclaimed in distress.

"Oh no darling!" Mary sniffed, hurriedly wiping her eyes. "Mama's just – just feeling very – very…"

"Happy!" Matthew interjected with a smile at his youngest. "She's happy because you're here." He cuddled Benjamin closer, breathing in his sweet smell of soap and powder.

"Will I have to go to war too?" Benjamin asked nervously as his father practically smothered him.

"I don't think so darling," Mary answered with a relieved smile, "It's only when you turn sixteen."

"But that's in ten years, that's too long!" Benjamin pouted, "I want to fight now!"

Mary and Matthew both chuckled wearily.

"Oh God help us!" Mary breathed with a smile. "He's blessed us with a house full of heroes!" She shot a fond look at her husband. "Full of them."

Matthew returned the smile and then turned to his youngest. "Come on young man, I'm taking you back to bed." He picked his son up and carried him back to his room. He dropped Benjamin onto his bed and watched as he scrambled back under the covers.

"Papa?" Benjamin asked softly as he snuggled into his sheets, "Why doesn't Germany like us anymore?"

"Well it's quite complicated you see," Matthew said gently, "They believe - that certain countries and certain people are against them - because Hitler is telling them that they're bad and shouldn't be trusted. It's all very complicated."

"Oh." Benjamin bit his lip anxiously.

"You all right?" Matthew asked in concern.

Benjamin nodded. "Yes."

"Goodnight then." Matthew whispered tenderly as he tapped his son's nose. "Sleep tight."

"Don't let the bed bugs bite!" Benjamin chirped. Matthew chuckled and switched the bedside lamp off. He exited the room and was just about to shut the door when Benjamin yelped, "No, no Papa! Don't close the door, leave it open!"

Matthew immediately turned back, completely startled, "Leave- ?" He glanced at the door, "Why?"

"I'm scared of the dark." Benjamin replied sheepishly.

Matthew frowned in puzzlement, "Really? That's odd. You've never been scared of the dark before Benji."

Benjamin didn't answer him. Matthew stepped back into his room, "Benji?" He prompted inquisitively, "Why the sudden change?"

Benjamin pulled his covers over his head.

"It's all right son you can tell me." Matthew gently sat down at the foot of his son's bed and tried to tug the covers off, "You can tell me anything."

"I'm scared Papa," Benjamin mumbled under his sheets.

"What of?" Matthew asked in bewilderment.

Then very slowly Benjamin peered out from behind his bed sheets to face his father and answered in a trembling voice, "I'm scared of the Nazis. I'm scared they're going to come and take me out of my bed and kill me."

Matthew's jaw dropped. He gaped at his youngest son, completely stunned. His heartbeat quickening as Benjamin's words unwillingly buried themselves in his mind. Eventually he managed to regain his composure to ask in a strained voice masked with kindness, "Who – who told you this Benji?"

Although Matthew already knew the answer he had to hear Benjamin say it out loud.

"I can't tell you Papa," Benjamin said timidly, "I promised Edward I wouldn't say anything."

* * *

><p>To Be Continued...<p> 


	7. Missing You

**Author's Note:**Thank you soooooo much for the reviews and your support - keep em coming cause it's really inspiring to know what you think and want. Anyway, this chapter is all about Edward and it's from his and Matthew's point of view because it's about a father reaching out to his son who's lost his way. I felt that their personalities clash because Edward's so defensive like Mary but he's also a boy so naturally he'll challenge his father. All though some of the issues are resolved in this chapter, he still has a lot of anger which he's clinging on to which will be explored later on.

But for now, enjoy this chapter and tell me what you think!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7 – Missing You<strong>

**November 6th 1939**

**6:30am**

Matthew and Mary hadn't slept a wink that night. For once it wasn't their eldest child that was keeping them up at night. It was in fact, their youngest child. Both Mary and Matthew lay curled up uncomfortably at the side of the bed, practically hanging off while Benjamin lay spread-eagled in the middle, fast asleep without a care in the world.

Matthew shifted uncomfortably away from the foot which was dug in his back. "Benji," He hissed, pushing his son's leg gently but firmly away from him, "Can't you just sleep straight!"

"He definitely gets that from you!" Mary grumbled as she tried to shove him further towards his father. "I don't know why you insisted he sleep in our bed."

"Because I didn't want to him to be scared at night!" Matthew replied defiantly. "We have enough of that going on in this house as it is."

Benjamin moaned softly and rolled over, nearly smacking his mother in the face.

"Really, this boy is the cheekiest little imp!" Mary muttered irritably, pushing her son's hand away.

Matthew couldn't help but chuckle tiredly.

"What may I ask is so funny?" Mary asked indignantly as she propped herself up on her elbows so she could see him.

"For just a fragment of a moment there – I actually forgot that today was Joe's birthday. And it's the first time in his life that he's spending it away from his family." Matthew said with a nostalgic sigh.

Mary reached over their son and stroked his arm gently. "I know, that's what I was thinking too. I miss him Matthew, I want him to come home."

Matthew didn't say anything. He clenched and unclenched his fist. "Me too." It was all he could say.

They lapsed into thoughtful silence for a few more minutes, each one trying to keep their inner emotions in check.

"You know I think I might have a little chat with Edward," Matthew said evenly as he hauled himself out of bed.

"Edward? Why?" Mary asked suspiciously.

Matthew shrugged nonchalantly, "I just feel that he's been pulling away from us that's all." He stood up and tried to keep his face neutral. "I can't sleep anyway, what with that little monster taking up all the room!" He hurried into the bathroom to get dressed before Mary could say anything.

Cutler greeted cheerfully him as soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Good morning your Lordship, I trust you slept well?"

"As well as can be expected," Matthew muttered, "I was wondering if you'd seen Edward at all, I was hoping I could have a word with him before breakfast."

"Master Edward rose very early this morning and took Chestnut out for a ride around the village your Lordship," Cutler replied formally.

"He did?" Matthew responded in surprise. "How long has he been gone?"

"Maybe an hour."

"Then he'll probably be back at the stables by now." Matthew swiftly exited the dining room, "I'll wait for him there."

"Oh your Lordship wait!" Cutler scurried after him, pushing through one of the footmen in his haste to follow his boss, "It's no trouble I can send Colby to escort Master Edward straight back to the house - it is his job after all!"

"No need Cutler!" Matthew dismissed politely, "I really could use the fresh air." He pushed open the doors and welcomed the cool November breeze. The frost which had settled on the grounds overnight still lingered on the grass blades and the naked trees continued to shiver in the chill bitten wind. Why anyone would want to go out for a ride in this weather was beyond Matthew as he buttoned up his coat and headed towards the stables, allowing the light rain to whip his face as he contemplated what it was he was going to say to his son.

When Matthew approached the stables all the pent-up anger which he had clung on to over the night, slowly began to dissolve as he watched his son attend to Chestnut. Matthew slipped in silently and leaned against the stable door with his arms crossed, just…watching him.

Edward didn't notice that he wasn't alone as he muttered softly to his beloved horse, his hand gently caressing his beautiful cocoa fur.

"You're all right aren't you my boy. Eh? Are you thirsty hmm? Do you want some water?" Edward lifted a small red bucket at his feet and carefully tipped it towards the horse who dipped it's head gratefully and began to lap up the water.

"That's my boy!" Edward cooed, stroking his horse's mane, "Keep drinking - good boy."

Matthew suddenly felt himself battling his inner feelings as he watched his little boy tend to his much-loved animal.

**_June 16th 1928_**

_"Mama! Papa! Look! Look! Look what I've got!" A four year old Edward hurtled excitedly through the garden towards his family who were clustered in the centre of the garden._

_"Oh what has he found now?" Mary asked wearily as she shifted a squealing Rebecca onto her lap._

_"No doubt another obscure rodent or incapacitated bird that's in desperate need of patching up," Violet muttered as she sipped her lemonade._

_"I see no harm in him expressing interest in looking after animals," Isobel said proudly, "Maybe he'll become a doctor or even a vet! The ladies will be queuing up!"_

_Violet scoffed, "Hardly! I can't imagine a woman who'd want to marry a man who comes home every night smelling of decaying animals."_

_"I didn't mind Matthew's father," Isobel said coolly, "On the contrary I actually found his profession quite appealing."_

_"Yes I'm sure you did." Violet replied with a smirk._

_"Mama, Papa, look what I have!" Edward ran to his parents, his arms outstretched and one hand clamped on top of the other._

_"What have you got there darling?" Mary asked nervously._

_"It's a mouse!" Edward opened his hand eagerly but nearly dropped it in Mary's lap as she let out an ear splitting scream and leapt from her chair, clutching a startled Rebecca._

_Violet raised her eyebrows as she surveyed the mouse with antipathy. "Well at least it's smaller than the half-dead crow that he kindly presented us with at dinner the other night," She said airily._

_"Get it away from me Papa!" Georgina shrieked as she darted behind her father for protection._

_"It's only a mouse!" Edward protested angrily. "And I think he's hurt. His ear's all funny."_

_Matthew quickly knelt before his young son who looked puzzled by his mother and sister's strange behaviour. Matthew gently took his hands, "Here, Edward let me see the mouse."_

_Edward dropped the mouse into Matthew's hand, the tiny furry creature was curled in a ball, it's ear looked like it had been bitten off._

_"I think maybe a cat might've got to him Ed," Matthew said quietly as he inspected the tiny rodent._

_"Good," Georgina said smugly._

_"Oh no!" Edward whimpered. "We have to save him Papa!"_

_"Don't be so ridiculous Edward it's only a mouse!" Mary snapped._

_"But it's hurt!" Edward retorted hotly._

_"It's called the natural orders of human nature dear, you'll learn about that the second you become a bachelor." Violet said thinly, more to herself than her great-grandson._

_"Can I keep him Papa? Please?" Edward begged._

_Matthew dithered, "Well -"_

_"Certainly not!" Mary interjected sharply. "Just get rid of it Edward."_

_"Can we keep him until he gets better?" Edward pressed. "Please!"_

_"I tell you what, you can keep him in my house Edward," Isobel said caringly._

_Violet cleared her throat loudly but didn't didn't say anything._

_"There you are Eddie," Mary said in a voice still laced with disgust, "Granny will take care of that- mouse for you."_

_Isobel nodded, "I'll make sure he's well looked after. You can check up on him any time you want to."_

_"Really?" Edward gushed in excitement, "Oh thank you Granny, thank you!" He flung himself into his grandmother's arms. Isobel caught him, chortling fondly._

"You really love your animals don't you?" Matthew asked hoarsely, breaking the fragile silence.

Edward didn't turn around as his father announced his presence. Instead he just shrugged and picked up a brush, "They're honest. They understand you a lot better than people do." He answered icily. He started grooming Chestnut's mane.

Matthew closed his eyes and sighed in defeat. "Edward," he sauntered towards his son but stopped about ten feet away from him, "I – I am so sorry."

Edward paused for a split second then continued to brush his horse's mane. "Sorry for what?" He murmured.

Matthew sighed heavily and perched on a stack of hay, "For lying to you."

"Lying to me about what?" Edward returned evenly.

"Do you remember when we took that trip to India?" Matthew asked quietly, "You couldn't have been more than six. We were playing on the beach and… you and Joseph came running up to me and you kept asking me if the world was so beautiful before the war, do you remember?"

Edward nodded but didn't say anything. He didn't even turn around.

Matthew swallowed and continued, "Anyway so I said, 'I'm not sure.' And do you remember what you asked me next? And what my answer was?"

Edward continued to groom his horse as he answered steadily, "I asked you if there was going to be another war and if Germany was different now." He rubbed his horse's nose fondly. "And you said no. There wasn't going to be another war because Germany isn't the same country that it used to be. That they've changed." Edward suddenly snickered darkly to himself.

"I lied to you both." Matthew said in a daze. "I told you that Germany had changed for the better but I was wrong."

"So? You weren't to know!" Edward snapped, "Why do you always have to blame yourself for everything that goes wrong in this world? You can't predict the future Papa!"

"All I want – all I've ever wanted is to be a good father and raise my children well!" Matthew retorted hotly.

"You have!" Edward replied in confusion.

"Then please help me understand why you told your six and a half year old brother that the Nazi's were going to drag him out of his bed and kill him." Matthew said in a calm voice tinged with fury. "If I raised you so well – why on earth did you think it necessary to tell him that?"

Edward's mouth dropped open in annoyance. "I told him no such thing," He replied acidly. "You know how much Benji exaggerates." He turned back to his horse.

"Where else would he have heard it?" Matthew retorted cuttingly, "The child is having nightmares Edward!"

Edward stopped brushing Chestnut's mane. He turned around slowly, with guilt shimmering behind his dark brown orbs. "He's having nightmares?"

"Your mother and I had to keep him in our bed last night because he's now too scared to sleep alone!"

Edward shrugged indifferently and turned his attention back to Chestnut, "Put him in my bed then."

Matthew stared at him incredulously, "It's not about tha – Edward!" He advanced towards his son, "Why did you tell him anything in the first place?"

Edward whipped around with his eyes flaring, "Because you wouldn't! He's not a baby anymore Papa, he has a right to know what's going on, he shouldn't be kept in the dark like that!"

"No but he's not an adult either and telling him everything that's going on - in absolute detail wasn't necessary Edward!" Matthew said heatedly, "It wasn't necessary at all!"

"Well, I'm sorry but I thought he had a right to know," Edward said coldly. "And I'm sorry if you're angry but -"

"Oh I'm not angry." Matthew said in a voice of forced tranquil as he folded his arms and surveyed his son. "No, I was angry when you flushed your mother's diamond bracelet down the toilet, I was angry when you finger-painted all over your great-great-great grandfather's portrait, I was angry when you were suspended from school last year for uncouth behaviour -"

"I was defending this family's honour!" Edward stated defensively.

"He had a broken nose!" Matthew hissed. He heaved a despondent sigh. "Now I'm absolutely seething. Every time you land in a spot of trouble I always try and find some way of making excuses for you. I feel like I don't know you anymore."

Edward swallowed over the aching lump in his throat."Maybe you don't." He responded inaudibly. "But I'm not perfect, I'm not Joe."

"Will you stop comparing yourself to your brother?" Matthew demanded in exhaution, "This was your own doing, you're not a child anymore Edward! Take some responsibility for what you did! You're going off to war in a few months and what you told Benjamin was -"

"Unforgivable yes I know!" Edward moaned, "But if there's one thing I've learnt from growing up in this beloved family is that we're not all as perfect as we paint ourselves out to be! I'm the only honest one out of all of you!"

"You call what you did honest?" Matthew asked in a hushed voice fastened with disbelief.

"I told him what he needed to know." Edward replied thinly.

"Oh God Edward if you believe that -"

"The perfect Crawley family," Edward interjected mockingly, "We sit around at the breakfast table – lying! We sit around the dinner table – lying! All of us just lying, lying, lying!" He almost kicked the bucket over in his uncontrolled anger.

"There is a very clear difference between lying and not telling someone certain facts for their own protection!" Matthew rumbled.

"Like you do for us?" Edward scoffed.

Matthew swallowed and gaped at his son, completely caught off guard. "What are you talking about?" He asked in a hollow voice.

Edward shook his head with a small smirk of incredulity, "You haven't even told us the real reason why Joseph is postponing his leave. I bet you haven't even told Mama! And don't even try to deny it!" He added quickly as Matthew opened his mouth to protest. "I know you know something! We all do, only the girls are too docile to call you out on it! But I'm not!"

"I told you -"

"What we wanted to hear." Edward interrupted roughly. He turned away from Matthew and kissed Chestnut's nose. "Good boy." He whispered before picking up the bucket of water and marching out of the stables without throwing so much as a glimpse to his father.

* * *

><p><em><strong>6:30pm<strong>_

The tension between Edward and Matthew still lingered painfully between them at the dinner table. Edward had made sure to avoid his father all day and wouldn't even say two words to him. Now he sat as far away from him as possible, itching to escape that piercing gaze which had been aimed at him all evening.

Tonight Mrs Plum had cooked a special meal which included all of Joseph's favourite dishes as it was his birthday. Edward toyed with the tiramisu on his plate, his appetite wearing thin.

"Edward are you all right?" Isobel asked in concern. "You look troubled."

Edward shrugged. "I suppose eating all this food is making me…" He finally turned his attention towards his father, "Miss Joe even more."

Matthew narrowed his eyes and breathed in sharply. "Well – we're all missing Joe tonight."

Mary had caught the look between father and son as did Isobel but they refused to comment.

"I know that Papa but," Edward said lightly as he turned back to his food, "It's irritating that his leave had to be postponed so close to his birthday. Why do you think that is?"

Benjamin glanced curiously at his father whose jaw was ticking in anger. Georgina and Rebecca continued to eat apprehensively, knowing that this dinner could either end in disaster or awkward silence.

"I'm sure he has his reasons for postponing his leave." Matthew answered with a cool exterior.

"So Matthew," Cora interrupted quickly, sensing the building strain, "Mary tells me that you turned down the opportunity to be made General. That's a shame."

"Really?" Rebecca asked in surprise, "I didn't know you turned it down Papa."

"Well I didn't stay in the army did I darling?" Matthew said in a tight voice, "I continued practicing law so – it wouldn't really be fair for me to be a General when I've been out of practice for the past twenty-one years. If I had known I might have to go back someday - maybe I…" Matthew gulped some more wine.

Edward didn't know what to say. He longed to say something reassuring to his father but he was still simmering inside from their argument earlier on.

"So what will you do Papa?" Georgina asked tentatively.

Matthew carefully placed his glass down and said very slowly. "Well… I have been in talks with -" He cast a half-glance at Benjamin who was ear wigging to no end, "With certain, uh, people and let's just say that there might be an opportunity that will present itself to us soon in about six or seven months."

Everyone at the table cast their gaze upon Matthew expectantly.

"What do you mean us?" Georgina asked with wide eyes.

"Are you talking about the evacuees coming to this house?" Rebecca asked.

"Our house will be housing some of the evacuees," Matthew sipped his wine very slowly before answering, "So will Grandmama's. But Granny's house will be housing something – else. And I will oversee the operation."

"Wow," Rebecca breathed, impressed.

Isobel looked at him, startled, "What do you mean? I'm planning to keep some children in my house."

"You can't Mama," Matthew said quietly, "But I can't tell you about it here. When I get more information I will tell you everything you need to know in preparation."

"Preparation for what?" Isobel retaliated.

"You mean you've offered Crawley House to be used as a base for something?" Mary asked in a hushed voice.

"Half of the house." Matthew answered in a voice so quiet in was barely audible. "And I had to do it. But I can't tell you any more than that."

"What's Granny's house going to be used for Papa?" Benjamin asked interestedly.

"Nothing, forget I said anything, let's just eat!" Matthew replied shortly. He threw a sharp look at Edward and carried on eating.

* * *

><p><strong><em>November 26th 1939<em>**

**_9:40am_**

Over the last few weeks it had become a frequent habit which Matthew adopted. He would silently watch his son from the view of second floor window on the landing. Matthew sighed and rested his hand on the cool window pane where Edward was spontaneously cantering through the grounds on Chestnut. Matthew could feel his son slipping from his grasp and desperately wished there was something that he could do to help him.

**_March 16th 1932_**

_"Be careful Ed!" Matthew called out worriedly as Robert helped an impatient Edward onto his new pony._

_"I will Papa, stop worrying!" Edward chastised. He happily ran his hand along Chestnut's ebony mane, "I'm going to call him Chestnut!"_

_"Why Chestnut?" Robert asked in amusement._

_"Because he's chestnut brown Grandpa!" Edward answered pointedly as if it was the most obvious fact in the world._

_Mary giggled, "Yes Papa, didn't you know that?"_

_Matthew turned to Mary in concern, "Are you sure he's going to be all right riding that thing?"_

_Mary rolled her eyes and touched her husband's arm affectionately, "Honestly Matthew, it's called a horse – and yes, he'll be fine. Riding is in his blood. He's always loved it and now he can ride whenever he wants, he'll have proper supervision I promise."_

_Matthew bit his lip, "But did we have to get him his own horse? Maybe we should've waited another year -" Chestnut interrupted with a fierce cry as he gruffly pounded the ground and then tore off, Edward clinging desperately yet excitedly onto him. "Or ten…" Matthew added with a gulp._

_Mary and Matthew clung to each other and watched as their eight year old child was dashed around the grounds. Although Matthew didn't approve, he was certainly impressed with how well Edward had managed to gain control all by himself, despite Lynch and Robert trailing behind._

_"Look at me Papa!" Edward yelled as he galloped past his parents. "I'm doing it all by myself!"_

_"Focus ahead of you Edward!" Matthew shouted in concern._

_Edward trotted past his parents again, he waved and blew his mother a kiss, "Look at me Mama!" He called out smugly, "I can ride better than you now!"_

_ Matthew had just started to relax when he saw the squirrel perched arrogantly in the centre of the lawn, nibbling on his paws._

_"Oh God…" In a panic he started to run towards Edward but Chestnut had seen the squirrel and stopped abruptly, screaming in terror. Edward tried to cling on but he was completely out of his depth as Chestnut bucked his rear-end and flung him head over heels into the air._

_Mary screamed as Edward was sent flying onto the ground. Matthew felt like shooting the damned squirrel which scampered away in fright. He was first to reach his son who was sprawled out on the ground, groaning in pain._

_"Edward!" Matthew gasped as he tried to turn him over. "Oh God."_

_"Good God!" Robert cried, running to them frantically. "Is he all right?"_

_"I am so so sorry your Lordship!" Lynch sputtered, "It all – happened so fast – I -"_

_"MATTHEW IS HE ALL RIGHT?" Mary shrieked, sliding next to him. She stroked her son's cheek, "Darling – are you all right?"_

_Matthew helped Edward sit up. He cradled his arm painfully but his face was split into a broad toothy grin._

_"Have - have you hurt yourself?" Matthew asked tenderly, trying to take his arm, completely confused as to why his son was smiling._

_"Yes I think my arm might be broken." Edward said dismissively, "But that was so much fun! Can I do it again! Please, Papa, please!"_

Matthew laughed out loud at the memory. Edward. Always able to pick himself up whenever he fell down, no matter how hurt he was. Perhaps he had overlooked the person Edward really was.

Edward was fully aware of the fact that his father had been watching him like a hawk from the minute he had mounted his horse. He just loved to canter through the grounds, feeling the sharp air lash at his face, freeing him from any thoughts of war or trouble. Over the past few weeks, Edward had managed to avoid his father as much as he could and had sought refuge in riding his horse or wandering around the village, flirting half-heartedly with the local girls. It had become a repetitive pattern until this morning when he received the letter with the accompanying pamphlet. Now all he just wanted to do was to ride into the distance forever and never come back.

* * *

><p><em><strong>10:30pm<strong>_

Matthew was on his way up to bed when he realized with a sudden jolt that he had forgotten his newspaper. He hurried back to the library and pushed the door open, finding to his great surprise - Edward, seated at one of the tables, surrounded by a mound of books and scribbling profusely under the dim lamplight.

"Edward?" Matthew exclaimed cautiously.

Edward's head snapped up immediately at the arrival of his father's presence. "Papa?" He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, his bloodshot eyes widening, "I –I had no idea it was so late. I must've lost track of the time." He threw down his pen and yawned.

"What are you doing up so late?" Matthew asked in bemusement, sifting through some the heavy tomes that Edward had carelessly strewn about the table. He lifted up a hefty volume and examined it closely. "The Anatomy of the Human Body?" He picked up another book with a frown, "Adverse Effects of Morphine?" He peered at a large sheet left open on the table, his frown deepening, "A Core Structure of Penicillin? What on Earth…?"

"I'm revising." Edward answered curtly. He absently started shifting some books and papers off the nearby chair so his father could sit down if he wanted to. He continued to label the aorta on a very complicated diagram of the heart.

"Revising for what exactly?" Matthew asked curiously as he gazed upon the complex charts and diagrams in awe.

Without looking up from his work, Edward passed Matthew a cream coloured pamphlet which was brandished with a proud red cross.

"Oh I see." Matthew said quietly as he thumbed through the pamphlet, his heart feeling more and more like lead. "Combat medic training."

"They sent it to me this morning along with a letter explaining my circumstances. After my - my sixteenth birthday I'm going off to train properly but there's so much work to do in advance before I can qualify as a medic – I really should've started sooner." Edward mumbled as he rumpled his hair in exhaustion. "And apparently," He continued in a small voice as he jotted away hastily, "I'm going to be made Captain like Joe."

"You're what?" Matthew shot out. "You can't. You're too young! Let me see the letter!"

Edward rested his pen and handed over the letter immediately. "That's what I thought too. But apparently being the son of an Earl, still earns me points I don't even want – even if I'm not the eldest." He added with a disdainful laugh.

"I don't believe this," Matthew whispered as he scanned the letter. Sure enough, Edward would also be made Captain. "You're going to be a Combat Medic for God's sake – what do they think they're playing at?"

"It's all right Papa," Edward said bitterly, "I don't think they'll send me to the frontline anyway. We're far too important."

"Don't be stupid!" Matthew snapped, all though he knew it was true. He knew exactly why his sons were selected to be Captains and it had nothing to do with their acumen. It was purely a social ranking.

"Boy…Grandpa Robert will be turning in his grave." Edward muttered with small smirk as he lounged back lazily in the swivel chair.

"Edward show some respect!" Matthew reprimanded. He turned his attention back to the letter, "I still can't believe this – you a Captain – in charge of all those older, experienced men!"

Edward shrugged nonchalantly, still twisting in his chair, "I admit the prospect made me laugh too. But then I thought - what's a poor thirty year old compared to a rich sixteen year old?" Edward fiddled with his pen, "Blame the conformations of society. I can't help it if I'm born into immense wealth and well educated."

"And you're still sure you want to enlist?" Matthew tried desperately, knowing it would be a failed attempt, "Conscription is not compulsory until you're eighteen you know?"

"I know Papa." Edward replied thinly. "But this isn't something that's negotiable." He indicated to the books and papers that littered the table, "Do you really think it two more years I'd be any less prepared than I am now."

"No but I know I'll be!" Matthew sighed. "It was worth a try."

Edward pursed his lips and tilted his head towards his father. "Look – there's an upside. I'm not going to be fighting. I'm just going to help those that are in need."

"There are still risks though Ed!" Matthew responded incredulously.

"I know Papa." Edward replied patiently. He shook the pamphlet at him. "But according to what I've read in here - I'll wear the armband and parade up and down with my kit bag applying first aid but I won't actually be…killing anyone – well – not intentionally anyway." Edward coughed awkwardly and tried to turn his attention back to his heart diagram but it was no use. His concentration was long gone.

"Take a break." Matthew said placidly, striding over to his drinks cabinet and lifted the lid off the crystal decanter filled with scotch. He carefully poured a small measure into two glasses. Edward watched his father with interest.

Matthew pushed a glass towards his son and winked, "Don't tell your mother."

Edward gave him a tired laugh and accepted the drink. "Cheers." He glugged it down in one go, the liquid burning his throat yet giving him a warm and pleasant sensation in his stomach.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right Edward?" Matthew asked in concern. "You can tell me you know? There's nothing I wouldn't have already felt."

"I know Papa." Edward said shortly, placing his glass firmly down on the table. "But now's not the time. I have so much work to do," He rifled through the leaves of papers in a frenzy, "I – I have to – to learn the names of all of these – these antibiotics and do you know how many bones there are in one damn human body, I mean I've never even heard of half -!"

"Edward stop, Edward stop, just stop!" Matthew grabbed Edward's hands and held them down firmly.

Edward's eyes were teeming with unshed tears. He wrenched his hands out of his father's grasp and hurriedly wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry. It's so dusty in here." He sniffed.

"You all right?" Matthew asked evenly.

Edward gathered his papers together, "I suppose I'm just tired."

"Yes." Matthew said thinly. "But that's only part of it. I think you're scared."

"Scared!" Edward scoffed. "Of what?"

Matthew gaped at him dubiously, "Of wha – WAR!" He practically screamed.

"Oh I know what you're trying to do!" Edward retorted indifferently, "You're trying to get me to say I'm frightened and can't manage going off to war by myself so you can finally prove you're right."

"This is not a damned game Edward this is your life!" Matthew replied sharply. "And this cocky attitude you've got – it has to stop now!"

"Excuse me?" Edward smirked. "What cocky attitude?"

Matthew took a deep breath of self -control, "This – 'I don't care,' assertiveness! It's distressing to watch as your parent!"

"Well I'm sorry I'm not -"

Matthew held up his hand to silence his son. "I don't want to hear your comparisons to your brother again." Matthew sighed and sat down. "Edward – have I ever compared you to Joe?"

Edward fiddled abstractedly with his pen, "Not – in so many words…"

"So it's just a little conspiracy you've cooked up by yourself," Matthew said lightly. "From some tiny comment your mother or I have probably made over the years and you've clung onto that."

"No it's not that it's just…" Edward broke off, chewing nervously on his lip.

Matthew leaned in closer and hissed. "Edward will you stop stammering around the subject and tell me what's wrong!"

"Fine!" Edward yelled, flinging his pen down and glaring at his father, "You want to know what's wrong, I'll tell you – you were right! I am scared, but not because I'm going off to war! I'm scared Joe's still out there and he might not come back!" Edward bit his lip and tore his eyes away, desperately trying not to cry. No, he won't give in to his emotions! He's not weak like that!

Matthew closed his eyes dejectedly. He felt as though his stomach was just being pummelled and the hits wouldn't stop. He rose to his feet and unlocked a small drawer in the side of the desk.

"Edward I have to show you something important." He said in a hollow voice. Matthew slipped a folded piece of paper towards Edward and sat back down.

Edward eyed the piece of paper warily, "What is that?"

"It's a letter – from Joseph." Matthew answered deeply, keeping his eyes on his son. Edward looked up in surprise and then quickly snatched up the letter. "In that letter - he explains why he decided to postpone his leave."

"He wrote it just to you?" Edward asked as he unfolded his brother's letter with trembling fingers.

"You'll see why." Matthew whispered.

Edward's heart hammered at the sight of Joseph's familiar scrawl.

_Dear Papa_

_It's your eldest son here, but I suppose you already knew that. And I suppose you know I'm also postponing my leave. And you're probably all frantic with worry._

_Truth is I don't really know how to explain my recent actions to you but hopefully I won't have to. I know you understand what happens in war and you're the only one I can talk to about this. I feel so helpless Papa, I need your advice._

Edward pursed his trembling lips.

_I know you and the family must be terribly worried but you see - my mind has been preoccupied with something terrible. Before you start panicking, I'm fine. Physically anyway. But something awful happened to a dear, dear friend of mine, Jacob Holmes, while I was in Belgium and by awful I mean he died Papa. In my arms._

Edward looked up at his father in shock. Matthew nodded and motioned for him to carry on reading.

_I felt it right to use my leave to visit Jacob's family in Croydon and inform them personally of his passing by someone who knew him well. I might be staying there for the rest of my leave to help them through this troubling time. This is going to be very hard for them as Jacob was an only child._

"My God," Edward breathed, closing his eyes in despair. He carried on reading, his eyes burning.

_Papa, please understand why I couldn't come home to you all. How could I when I know that there's a family that was once like ours and has now been torn apart? I knew Jacob well. We went through training together and he was such a brave, strong soldier Papa, you would've been proud of him._

_I know this isn't going to sound very fair but please don't tell Mama, or anyone for that matter. I just feel that they might not understand. It's something I have to do. War is definitely changing me._

_Give my love to the family._

_Take care Papa_

_All my love_

_Your eldest son_

_Joseph_

_P.S. You have no idea how much I wish you were here with me._

Edward folded the letter up and slid it back to his father, his hand shaking. "Well," He choked. "That answers that question."

"Do you understand now?" Matthew asked in a voice tinged with desperation, "Do you understand why I'm trying to protect you all?"

Edward could feel he was about to crack. "Papa I'm -"

"What are you two doing up at this hour?" Mary's surprised voice interrupted Edward's awkward apology.

Matthew and Edward jumped in alarm. Edward hastily started gathering his books and papers together.

"Nothing Mama! We're just talking." He said thickly.

"You were?" Mary asked sceptically. "Hmm," She ran her hands along Matthew's neck and kissed his head. "That's odd."

"Can you two please wait until I've left before you start – doing that?" Edward grumbled in disgust.

"Hurry up then!" Matthew laughed, enjoying Edward's discomfort.

Edward groaned in antipathy, collected a few books and proceeded to scurry out of the library when he paused and turned back to his mother. He kissed her cheek.

"Goodnight Mama." He said warmly and headed out of the library leaving his stunned parents staring after him.

Mary rubbed her cheek fondly, "What was that about?" She asked her husband.

Apprehension clouded Matthew's eyes. "Edward's going to made Captain."

"He's what?" Mary sputtered. "But – but he's not even -?"

"I know, I know Mary." Matthew sighed, rubbing his temple. "But as Edward so eloquently put it, what's an upper class sixteen year old doctor to a –working class thirty year old factory worker?"

"Oh for God's sake!" Mary snapped.

"There's more." Matthew murmured, running his hand through his hair in agitation.

Mary gaped at him. "More? Like what?"

"Like this." Matthew produced Joseph's letter from behind his back.

Mary eyed the letter with wide eyes, her stomach twisting in anticipation. "Is that a letter?"

Matthew nodded and took a deep breath and took his wife's hand. "Darling there's something you need to know. About Joe."

Edward rested his head outside the library, listening to his parents discussing his brother. He heard Matthew apologize from keeping the letter from Mary but he had made a promise to Joe. Mary almost flew into hysterics at her husband's betrayal but she calmed herself down enough to announce that she would be retiring to bed and if there was anymore secrets he would like to share, he can do it in the morning when she had less of a headache.

Edward closed his eyes and banged his head against the wall, feeling completely helpless. How could he possibly leave them like this?

* * *

><p><em>To Be Continued...<em>


	8. I Am Yours To Keep

**Author's Note:**Thanks for all the reviews guys, seriously keep em coming! Sorry this chapter is so short but I wanted to portray the Crawley sisters over two chapters so just say this is the first part. In this bit, we learn more about Matthew and Georgina's relationship and why they're so close!

So read and review!

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 8 – I Am Yours To Keep<span>**

_**December 2nd 1939**_

From the moment she had been born, Lady Georgina Mary Crawley had been the apple of her father's eye. As she sat in the library, studying her French verbs, Matthew peered at his daughter over the corner of his newspaper and was struck by a fierce stab of fear that she was growing up within minutes. He swallowed nervously.

Georgina caught his eye and smiled thinly. "You won't find any news about Joe in there Papa."

"I know princess. But I have to know what's going on before - before we get told." Matthew replied, his voice barely audible. Georgina pursed her lips in understanding and carried on with her French lesson. Every day since Joseph had left, he had combed the papers twice to see if there was any news, just so he could prepare himself for the worst and keep up with the progress of the war.

Matthew and Georgina had always shared a special relationship. It wasn't that he picked favourites, of course not. He loved each and every one of his children equally. It was just the circumstances that surrounded Georgina's birth that had planted the seed for this special connection.

**_February 23rd 1922_**

_"Quick Daisy! We need more towels! Hurry!" Isobel screamed, prompting Matthew, Robert, Carson and Edith to flock hastily to the hall._

_"What's going on?" Robert questioned sharply as Daisy scurried past them in a frenzy._

_"I think it's Lady Mary your Lordship!" Daisy squeaked on her way to the kitchen._

_Matthew barely had time to let Daisy's words sink in when Edith released a horrified gasp. Matthew followed her gaze to the staircase where the midwife was trudging down, her apron and hands were caked with blood and other…substances._

_"Where are those damn towels!" She cursed._

_Matthew's heart sank. That blood – who's blood was that? He needed to get to his wife, now! "Mary…" He stumbled towards the staircase in a daze. He vaguely felt Robert's hands holding him back._

_"Matthew – wait here! She's in the best hands, there's nothing we can do except wait!" Robert said gravely._

_"Cousin Robert." Matthew stared his father-in-law down. "I need to see if she's all right."_

_Robert relented, seeing the terror in Matthew's eyes. "All right." He released him and watched the young man tear up the stairs in a panic._

_When Matthew skidded to a halt at the top of the hallway he saw Mary's room door was thrown open, panicked voices shouted over each other from inside but Cora was standing further down, sobbing into her hands. With complete trepidation, Matthew stalked towards his mother-in-law, his heart beating so erratically he thought it might explode from his chest. He tapped Cora on the shoulder. She gasped at his touched and whipped round._

_"Matthew!" She threw her arms around him. "Oh what am I going to do?"_

_"What's going on Cousin Cora?" Matthew asked as calmly as he could._

_"Mary." Cora choked. "The baby was a couple weeks premature but that was it. The birth didn't go so smooth - apparently the afterbirth was delayed and -"_

_"Yes but Dr Clarkson said that everything was going to be all right." Matthew interrupted gingerly._

_Cora straightened up, her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, "Did he now? Well you just take look inside and see for yourself if everything is all right! Go on go and see!" She practically shoved him into the room._

_"Cousin Cora I really don't think – Good God in heaven!" Matthew breathed. He gripped the doorframe, feeling his legs turn to water as he stared at the sight in front of him. He had to bite hard on his lip to stop himself from vomiting as the stench of blood and sweat was flung into his face. But what sickened him the most was the sight of Mary. His beautiful Mary was sprawled on the bed – their bed, her face drenched in sweat, her whole body twitching in pain while Dr Clarkson barked orders to Isobel. But Matthew was oblivious to all that._

_"Mary!" Matthew stumbled towards his wife and grasped her hand. He pressed it to his lips. "I'm here now darling, it's all right I'm here." He swallowed and tried to ignore the complete carnage that was going on around him._

_"Matthew," Mary groaned. "Take the baby. Keep her safe. Make sure she's not alone."_

_"What? What?" Matthew sputtered. "Mary -?"_

_"You have to look after the baby," Mary murmured weakly, "Take good care of her. And Joseph. " She caressed his cheek absently. He squeezed her hand. "I love you so much. And tell the children I love them too."_

_"Tell them yourself!" Matthew retorted through gritted teeth, the tears leaking from his eyes. "You're going to live and we're going to raise our children together!"_

_"I want to. Oh God Matthew you have no...I'm in so much pain... I'm not strong enough," Mary whispered._

_"You are!" Matthew replied firmly, he wiped her damp hair. "You're strong Mary, remember. My stormbraver?"_

_Mary just shook her head. "Look." She pulled her hand out from under the covers. Matthew's throat clenched. Her hand was congealed in blood. To Matthew's horror, the crimson stain continued to spread quickly through the sheets and just wouldn't stop._

_"So you see. It's too late. Just take the baby!" Mary hissed. "Don't let her be alone!"_

_Matthew tried to protest as his mother thrust a small bundle into his arms and ushered him out of the door. He caught one last glimpse at his wife who was groaning in agony before the door was finally shut on him._

_Still in a daze Matthew clutched his daughter to his chest and padded down to the nursery. There he sat on the rocking chair and took the first proper look at his baby girl. Oh what a baby girl she was, and the carbon copy of her mother with her thick black hair and pale skin. Only her eyes were a deep shade of blue which glistened like sapphires whenever she looked up at him. Her tiny hands were balled into fists and resting on top of the blankets while those eyes were just staring, staring, staring at him, trying to recognize him. Her rosebud mouth opened and closed like a little fish._

_"It's all right baby," Matthew whispered, "Your Mama's going to make it through."_

_The baby's tiny face suddenly screwed up as if she was going to howl, sensing that her mother was in danger. Matthew quickly shifted her up and rocked her, feeling completely lost and alone._

_"Sshhh," He soothed desperately over her little mews, "Darling it's all right, it's all right. You're not alone, I promise you'll never be alone my precious little princess." He pressed his cheek against her tiny body and breathed in her fresh smell, "Your Papa is right here and he's not going anywhere. I promise."_

_He realized then and there that he couldn't do this without Mary. He couldn't be a father to two young children on his own._

_Cora pushed the door of the nusery open cautiously. Matthew silenced her with his eyes and indicated his baby who was dozing peacefully in his protective arms. _

_"Mary's fine." Cora whispered with tears streaming down her cheeks._

_Relief flooded every inch of his body."Is she?" Matthew breathed. He nuzzled his daughter's forehead. "I told you princess. Mama's going to be fine." He turned back to his mother-in-law, "Is Joseph all right?"_

_"He's fast asleep." Cora answered with a smile. She held out her arms, "Would you like me to take her?"_

_Matthew clutched his baby closer, "That's all right Cousin Cora. I'll stay here with...Georgina."_

_"Georgina? That's her name?"_

_Matthew nodded slowly. "My Granfather's name was George."_

_"Oh I see!" Cora chuckled, "Joseph, Georgina - you two!"_

_"It was Mary's idea." Matthew said warmly. "Georgina - Mary Crawley." _

_"Well I think that's a fine name!" Cora said proudly. "I'll keep an eye on Joseph. You make sure you get some rest Matthew." She backed out of the nursery and shut the door tentatively._

_While Mary recovered, Matthew fed his daughter, changed her and spent the first night of her life, just watching over her in her crib, terrified that something might happen to her. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot due to lack of sleep and he waved aside his mother's insistence that she look after the baby while he get some sleep. He had promised his daughter that she would not be alone and he intended to keep it._

"Papa? Papa?" Georgina's voice pulled Matthew back into the present. "What are you thinking of? Are you thinking of Joe?"

Matthew gave his daughter a wry smile, "Oh, I think about him all the time. But no, I was actually thinking about you."

Georgina smiled in surprise, "About me? What about me?"

Matthew sighed and folded his paper up. "You're growing up so fast Georgina. I sometimes think I'm going to lose you."

"Oh Papa don't be so silly!" Georgina chided, "You're never going to lose me, not ever!"

Matthew grinned humorously, "I don't know. This – insufferable prig you mentioned a few months ago?"

"What about him?" Georgina scoffed.

"Who was he?"

Georgina rolled her eyes, "Really nobody worth mentioning Papa, why on earth do you ask me about him now?"

Matthew shrugged and fiddled with the corner of his paper, "When Edward was teasing you about him that afternoon at lunch… I felt for the first time – a feeling that I've never felt before. Georgina, I realized that you're naturally going to want to live your own life and get married -"

"Marry him?" Georgina interrupted with incredulity, "Oh Papa really!"

"I'm – I'm just saying!" Matthew replied quickly, leaning forward and staring at his daughter intently. "If there's anything you should like to do now – I want you to know my darling that – I won't hold you it."

Georgina's eyes widened in anticipation and her heart started hammering in excitement. "You mean… I can train as an ambulance woman?"

Matthew swallowed over the tense lump in his throat before nodding his consent. "If you want to go to London - alone – then yes." It took all the strength he had to spit those words out and now he had, he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Georgina was ready to leap out of her seat and cover her father's face with grateful kisses. But as she started to rise from her seat, she noticed the sheer look of terror in his eyes, terror that he tried to mask with a false smile. Her own smile wilted and she shook her head slowly.

"I want to very much Papa – but I don't think I could possibly go through with it when I know it will kill you and Mama." She whispered fixedly. "And I think it would be – cruel of me to go to London where there's so much danger erupting there. I couldn't leave you worrying like that. No, I want to be here. I want to be here to help with the evacuees and if you need my help for that secret operation you're going to be in charge of, in Granny's house then I'll be there too. You just say the word and I'll be there." Her lips spread into a broad smile, "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Matthew's eyes which indeed had been glazed with terror, was now awash with relief, gratitude and most of all – love. He held his arms out for his daughter and she giggled as she flung herself into his arms. As he held Georgina, Matthew said softly, "Truth be told princess, I can't think about Joe without thinking about the ramifications of him fighting in this war. Every day I read something – and I don't like it. But you help us all through it every day. You're the heart of this family Georgina, did you know that?"

"Thank you. Do you want me to get you some tea?"

"That would be lovely thank you."

Rebecca, who was waiting patiently outside the library, shut the door quietly as her stomach plummeted in defeat. She couldn't intrude, how could she? She didn't want to interrupt such a loving, tender moment. So she turned on her heel and stalked away.

* * *

><p>Rebecca locked herself in her room, wanting so much to just be alone. She plopped herself down on her bed and gazed about her room, feeling a great sense of dejection. She noticed that her suite was still quite girlish. The wallpaper was still a light pastel pink along with the soft pink loveseat, the fluffy rug and bed coverlet which was embracing her graceful dolls. Also, the model dollhouses of the Crawley House and The Dower House still stood proudly in the corner, bringing back millions of childhood memories spent with Georgina. Oh, the many hours they used to spend in the playroom, just playing different roles of upstairs and downstairs.<p>

But that was before the war. Now she longed for the childhood she had had and just wanted her life to go back to the way it used to be.

Rebecca caught a sight of her reflection in the mirror. It was very hard not to feel envious of Georgina. She was so beautiful; she looked very much like a doll herself, what with her ebony hair, flawless pale, creamy skin and red, ripe lips. Not to mention, her cerulean blue eyes. According to Edward, everyone at Eton had nicknamed her doll face. Rebecca wondered if she was ever mentioned at all as she tucked a golden coil behind her ear. But then she noticed that her ear looked too big so she hastily covered it back up. Her hair was blonde yet her eyes were a tedious brown and far too large. Her skin was too rosy, it made her look flushed all the time and her shoulders were far too bony. Not to mention her lips which were far too thin, nothing like her mother and Georgina's identical, plump rims.

She loved her sister very much but she couldn't help harbouring a small sliver of envy as Georgina was loved, admired and respected by everyone inside and outside the family.

And she… where did she stand in it all?

* * *

><p><em>To be Continued...<em>


	9. Amen

**Author's Note:**Hey thanks for all the amazing and supportive reviews! This chapter is quite long because I decided to combine two short ones into one long one which I thought would be best - so it starts off through Rebecca's eyes and then the story shifts focus to a certain someone whom I'm sure, we have all be missing! ;)

Enjoy and review!

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 9 – Amen<span>**

**_December 12th 1939_**

Rebecca frowned as she slouched on the bench in the pavilion and swung her legs to and fro. She was so lost in her thoughts; she didn't notice her sister creep up next to her.

"Hi. Can I sit here?" Georgina asked softly.

Rebecca shrugged. "If I say no are you going to declare war on me?" She challenged desolately.

Georgina sighed and sat next down to her little sister and caressed a wooden pillar fondly. "I used to come here all the time when I was upset. Did you know that Papa had this pavilion built for Mama? For their tenth wedding anniversary."

"That was a long time ago, when they were happy." Rebecca said miserably. "Now, I barely know who Mama is. And she and Papa are arguing all the time."

"Put yourself in their position? Can you blame them?" Georgina raised her eyebrow.

"I suppose not," Rebecca replied sheepishly. "But I do agree with Mama. Joseph should be spending every second of his leave here with us, his own family, not someone else's!"

"Rebecca!" Georgina admonished.

"What? You feel exactly the same way!" Rebecca snapped, "And don't try and pretend you don't!""

Georgina twisted her lips in forced patience, "I feel that – we don't really know what's going on out there. We're stuck here in our tiny village, and it is rather tiny if you think about the size of the world and where Joe is. And what he's doing." Georgina smiled softly, "Only Papa really knows what's going through Joe's head, or is the only one out of us that's close to knowing anyway."

"This war is really wearing on my nerves," Rebecca said in a fine voice.

"So is that why you're here all by yourself?" Georgina asked tenderly. "Because you're driving yourself mad with the understandings of war?"

"Yes and no." Rebecca answered hesitantly. "It's – I don't know! Everything! I mean first Germany wants Britain on their side one minute and the next minute they're declaring war on us! Wouldn't it be a lot easier if they could just pick a side and be done with it?"

"Or just pick no sides and live in perfect harmony?" Georgina suggested lightly.

Rebecca chortled darkly, "Yes, that would be perfect."

"But that would be a dream," Georgina said in a tight voice, "And eventually we'd have to wake up."

* * *

><p><em><strong>December 19th 1939<strong>_

"Damn it!" Matthew hissed as he practically hurled his newspaper across the breakfast table causing everyone present to flinch in shock.

"Matthew!" Mary reprimanded in alarm as Benjamin gasped at his father's curse.

"I'm sorry, forgive me children!" Matthew replied hastily, rubbing his face in agitation, "It's just…" He shook his head and pushed his plate of nibbled food away. "I'm sorry Mr Cutler. I hate to waste it but- I just can't eat." He sighed to his butler.

"That's all right sir." Cutler responded passively, eyeing his master with concern.

"What's happened Papa?" Edward asked directly, his panic rising in his throat. He nodded at the now crumpled newspaper, "Just tell us."

Matthew glanced at Benjamin whose small lips were puckering in worry. Matthew instantly softened. He turned to his youngest daughter, "Rebecca darling, can you take Benjamin to his playroom and stay with him. You can take some fruit up with you."

Rebecca's jaw dropped in disbelief. "But – but Papa -!" She tried to protest but her mother shot her a warning look. Rebecca wilted like a flower as she glimpsed her father's worried face. She pursed her lips and rose from her seat with all the grace she could muster.

"Thank you." Mary said softly with a small smile at her daughter.

Rebecca did not return the smile.

"I want to listen too!" Benjamin whined as Rebecca gently but firmly guided him off his seat.

"We can't." Rebecca replied airily, snatching a bunch of grapes and a banana off the fruit bowl. She led him out of the dining room and pointedly shut the door behind her. For a split second, she considered listening in at the keyhole but she was also aware of the maids and Cutler scurrying up and down the corridor and didn't want to be thought of as an eavesdropper in her own house. The thought mortified her. So like the obedient daughter she was, she marched her little brother up to his playroom.

Matthew watched Rebecca push Benjamin out of the dining room and forcibly slam the door. His eyes closed in regret but then recovered when Georgina placed a gentle hand on his.

"Papa?" She prompted tenderly, "Tell us."

Matthew smoothed out his damaged paper and stabbed at the headline. "Look at that! Germany beats Britain in Battle of the Heliogland Blight!"

"Let me see that!" Mary snatched the paper out of his grasp and scanned the article with a tense frown. "German pilots have claimed thirty-eight aircraft losses…RAF gunners claim twelve German fighters…as well as twelve severely damaged – German losses include three destroyed and four severely damaged."

"This is like a football score of life and death," Edward mumbled into his juice.

"It's not funny!" Matthew snapped, his eyes glistening madly, "Several of our pilots have been killed!"

Georgina's heart inadvertently started hammering as her thoughts found themselves wandering to Dominic. "Our pilots… the RAF." She whispered. "Papa – did they say who the pilots were?"

Matthew shook his head absently, his face dripping into uneasiness.

"Didn't -didn't The Times report the sinking of another ship only just yesterday?" Mary asked incredulously.

"Yes!" Matthew replied emphatically, "The Battle of the River Plate and the demise of the Admiral Graf Spee!"

Mary swallowed and pushed the paper back towards her husband in disgust. "I see." She sipped her tea, all thoughts were focused on her eldest son and what would've happened if he had stayed in the RAF. Would he have been one of those pilots? Would it have been thirty-nine aircraft losses instead… Mary's head started thumping at the mere contemplation of it.

"Thank goodness Joe left the RAF," Edward said casually, voicing Mary's exact thoughts. She stared at him in surprise.

"I beg your pardon?" Matthew asked wearily.

Edward shrugged and stabbed a sausage with his fork, "Maybe that second infantry division transfer you were all so worried about was a blessing in disguise."

"A blessing?" Matthew repeated in a voice vibrating with suppressed anger.

"Matthew," Mary said placidly, "I think what Edward means to say is that – if he hadn't accepted the transfer then who knows what would've happened. It just goes to show that nothing's safe."

Edward nodded insouciantly at his father who just scowled in response.

"But I thought the Air Force was supposed to be successful." Georgina muttered.

Matthew shook his head. "Nope, apparently not."

* * *

><p>Rebecca did a smart job of distracting Benjamin from his complaints by fashioning a den out of some old quilts and spreading out the fruit in a picnic style in a basket they found. Benjamin was easily occupied as he played with his wooden soldiers while munching on the occasional grape and he didn't care at all about the fact that they were pushed out from the family.<p>

As Rebecca watched him play, she felt her heart grow heavy. Why did they keep treating her as if she were a child? She was thirteen for goodness sake! Why did they have to forget that she was even there?

**_December 25th 1932_**

_"All right, all right children settle down, please!" Mary called loudly over the sound of her shrieking children._

_"Hush!" Matthew ordered as he set a giggling Rebecca on the floor. "Your Mama and I have another present for you."_

_"More presents!" Edward exclaimed with excitement._

_"You're spoiling these children Matthew," Robert said fondly as he watched his children cluster around their parents, clutching their newfound toys, books and dolls._

_"Oh I think this will come as a surprise to you too Cousin Robert," Matthew replied with a playful smile at Mary._

_"Oh?"_

_"What have you got for us Mama?" Georgina asked eagerly._

_Matthew placed a hand on his wife's shoulder and they grinned mischievously at the anticipated looks on their children and parents._

_"Well spit it out!" Isobel demanded impatiently._

_Matthew laughed, "All right Mama! Mama, Cousin Robert, Cousin Cora – Children," Matthew beamed affectionately at Mary who placed her hands on her stomach, "We're going to have another addition to the family next Christmas."_

_Georgina and Cora gasped, Joseph hid his face in embarrassment while Edward and Rebecca just looked bewildered._

_"Oh!" Isobel shrieked, "Oh, oh, oh, my dear boy!" She rushed over to her son and kissed his cheeks._

_Robert laughed and shook Matthew's hand, "Congratulations my son – again!"_

_Cora however remained in her seat. She eyed her daughter warily._

_"Mama?" Mary's excited smile slipped off at her mother's tense expression. "Aren't you happy for us?"_

_"Oh, no I am dear," Cora said quickly, "I'm just surprised that's all. I thought you were finished."_

_Mary cast a sly glance at her husband, "Well no one really plans for these things do they? And I admit it did come as a great shock but we've both grown used to the idea." _

_Cora still looked uncertain, "I thought that women over thirty-five found it hard to have...babies that's all."_

_"I'm not forty yet Mama!" Mary replied indignantly as Matthew, Robert and Isobel all blanched in embarrassment, "And may I remind you that you were seven years older than I am when – when you were pregnant after Sybil." She added quietly._

_"Yes and I had a miscarriage." Cora said sadly._

_"You slipped on a bar of soap." Mary contradicted coldly._

_"Yes but even so," Cora continued evenly, "You've already experienced the loss of children and I don't want you to go through that again."_

_"But we are so delighted for you!" Robert interrupted pointedly, indicating the confused looks on his grandchildren's faces._

_"Yes, yes of course! I'm only thinking of your future happiness dear, as always." Cora responded hastily. "In fact I'll telephone the girls in New York and Ireland straight after dinner."_

_Robert turned to his grandchildren, "It's exciting isn't it? You're going to have a new brother or sister to play with."_

_"I suppose it is rather exciting," Joseph sighed, "Just as long as it's not another girl!"_

_"I hope it's not another boy!" Georgina shot back._

_Matthew chortled, "Boy or girl," He smiled forlornly at his wife, "I just hope this time – they're healthy."_

_Mary returned the smile. "Me too."_

_Edward turned to his younger sister and whispered over the excited chatter, "There's not going to be any room for you now."_

_"What?" Rebecca asked with wide eyes._

_Edward smirked, "When the new baby comes you'll have to go back to the place where you came from. Mama and Papa will forget all about you."_

_Rebecca's lips puckered in worry. "I don't believe you!" She hissed. "You're just lying again!"_

_"Am not!" Edward stuck his tongue out at her. "You'll see!"_

_"Have you thought of where you're going to put the nursery?" Isobel asked suddenly._

_"Good point. It's been a while since we've had a baby in the house." Robert commented cheerfully._

_"Oh yes. Well I suppose since Rebecca's room was the nursery we can just move her into a room at the end of the hall." Cora said simply._

_Mary and Matthew exchanged reasonable glances and nodded their approval._

_"Yes I think that could work." Mary said casually, "That way we can re-decorate her room back into the nursery and bring all the baby things back."_

_"Sounds like a plan," Robert said with a nod. He gazed at his eldest and his heir, "Are you two looking forward to becoming parents again?"_

_Mary grinned excitedly and rubbed her stomach, "I can't wait. This is all so exciting." She gushed. "I just can't wait to get started on re-decorating Rebecca's room back into the nursery. It'll bring back so many memories of all my little ones."_

_Rebecca frowned and bit her lip anxiously, her heartbeat accelerating with every word._

_"We'll have to move Rebecca's bed, bookcase and all her other things to the room at the end of the hall," Matthew said indifferently, "And then bring back the bassinet and all the other things."_

_"I kept them in my loft." Isobel said proudly. "Just in case!"_

_Matthew laughed, "I'll get started on moving it as soon as possible."_

_"But leave the rocking chair where it is," Mary said firmly, "That was always my favourite. Everything else can be moved."_

_"See," Edward said smugly to his sister, "They're already moving you out of your room."_

_Rebecca scrunched her face, tears prickling her eyes. "Mama! Papa! I don't want another silly baby!" She cried in a trembling voice."Send it back to the shop!"_

_Mary's face fell, "What? Why? Don't you want a little brother or sister to play with?"_

_"No! You're going to all forget me!" Rebecca replied sulkily. "You won't want me and will send me away."_

_Matthew was on his knees by her side at an instant. "Oh darling," He stroked her hair tenderly, "We still love you and will never send you away."_

_Mary slid off the couch and crawled towards them, "Why on earth would you think that?" She asked softly._

_"Edward said so." Rebecca sniffed._

_Edward dashed out of the room as fast as he could, pushing past Georgina and nearly knocking Isobel over._

_"Come - come back here young man!" Robert yelled as he trotted after him._

_Matthew rubbed his eyes wearily and then turned back to his daughter. "You know why you're so special to us Becky?" He whispered._

_Rebecca tearfully shook her head. Matthew pulled her onto his lap and kissed her cheek._

_"You're special to us because you're a rainbow child." Mary said soothingly, twirling her daughter's golden locks around her finger._

_Rebecca puckered her brow, "What's a rainbow child?"_

_"A rainbow child is a baby who has been born after -" Matthew broke off and cast a painful glimpse at Mary who rested her hands lightly on his shoulders._

_"After a baby who was not born," Mary finished quietly._

_"Was that my brother or sister who went to Heaven and became an angel?" Rebecca asked sadly._

_Mary nodded through a veil of tears. "Yes. Yes it was darling."_

_Matthew enveloped his little girl in a warm embrace and breathed in her ear, "You see? I promise that you'll never be forgotten."_

"Becky! Becky!" Benjamin tugged impatiently on his sister's hand, dragging her away from her memories. "My soldiers need a General can you pretend to be him?"

Rebecca gazed at her little brother whom she had instantly resented but then quickly grown to love. It was growing intensely cramped in this makeshift tent. "I – I'm sorry Benji, I can't stay and play with you?" She crawled out of the den.

"Why not?" Benjamin demanded in surprise, scampering out after her.

"Because I need to -"

"Well, well, well what's this?" Edward drawled in amusement as he appeared from behind the door. He lounged against the spine of the door and surveyed his siblings on all fours, "I know you're still a baby but surely even you know you can't fit into that thing right Becky?"

"She's not a baby!" Benjamin retorted defensively.

Edward scoffed, "Then what's she doing up here?"

Rebecca straightened up and smoothed her skirt, shooting her brother an icy glare, "What do you want Ed? Is the family meeting over? Are Benji and I allowed to set foot outside the playroom now?"

Edward arched his eyebrow, "What's with the frosty reception? I only came here to see how you were."

"Checking up more like," Rebecca shot back acidly, marching right past him and into the hallway. Edward hurried after her.

"Fine I was checking up on you, but only by Papa's insistence!" Edward added quickly, "He wanted to me to ask after you."

"Did he now?" Rebecca whipped around, her eyes flaring, "Well tell Papa I'm fine and I don't want to waste anyone's time by being asked after. So why don't you just run off back to your medical books and leave me in peace!"

Edward's eyes glazed with disinclination, "Fine." He replied coldly. "Suit yourself."

Rebecca sighed with regret as she watched him stalk away. She wanted to call him back but didn't have the energy.

* * *

><p><em><strong>December 21st 1939<strong>_

_**10:23pm**_

Rebecca scurried down the corridor and rapped on her sister's door. "Georgie it's me. Can I come in?" She hissed.

"Of course." Georgina answered warmly.

Rebecca entered her sister's room and perched on the bed clutching her old, favourite doll, Miss Cynthia. She hugged her doll to her chest and glumly watched her sister sat at her vanity table, brushing her long, dark hair so it shone like black satin.

"One hundred strokes every night." Georgina said with a glance in her mirror.

"Why don't you ask Caroline to do it for you?" Rebecca asked absently as she fiddled with the lace on her doll's dress.

"I don't want to." Georgina replied vaguely, "There's something oddly soothing about brushing your own hair before bed. Don't you think?"

"No. You have such nice hair Georgie," Rebecca said longingly. "Unlike mine! I hate my hair!" She tugged at her golden locks. "And my eyes are far too big. Remember when Edward said I looked like a monkey?"

"That's rubbish!" Georgina said dismissively. "You have beautiful golden hair like Papa. And you have Mama's nice big eyes. They don't look awkward at all."

"Well we don't look like sisters." Rebecca muttered.

Georgina stood up and grinned. "But we are sisters Becky. Here, come and sit down." She patted her stool.

Rebecca obediently sat down at the table and clutched her doll to her chest as her sister gently ran her brush through her hair.

"I can't believe you still have Miss Cynthia!" Georgina exclaimed in amusement. "I'd have thought you'd have grown out of dolls by now."

"Well, Mama and Papa gave it to me for my fourth birthday didn't they? She was my favourite." Rebecca replied shyly. "I could never grow out of dolls."

Georgina grinned mischievously, "Neither could I. I still have my old doll, Miss Annabel. I named it after our old Nanny, Anna. You won't remember her."

"I think I do," Rebecca said with a small frown, "Didn't she have blonde hair always tied up in a bun?"

"Yes. She used to be our Mama's maid before Joe was born. Her husband used to be our grandfather's valet, they were good friends apparently. He was arrested for murder you know?"

"What?" Rebecca's eyes widened in shock. "I didn't know that? Who did he kill?"

"I never said he actually killed anyone!" Georgina retorted hastily, "He was eventually released. But he was accused of killing his ex-wife. Grandpa and a couple of the servants had to go and testify in court and everything. It was just after Christmas as well."

"Oh that's horrible!" Rebecca exclaimed in dismay, "I can't believe that someone in this house could ever be accused of such a terrible, dreadful, horrid -"

"What are you girls still doing up?" Mary's sharp voice cut through the room abruptly. Both girls jumped at the sight of their mother standing in the room all of a sudden.

"Hello Mama," Rebecca said quickly. "I – I couldn't sleep."

"I was just brushing her hair," Georgina said swiftly, holding up her hairbrush.

Mary's face softened. "Oh." She flitted over to her daughter and ran her fingers through her hair. It felt like spun gold. "Your hair looks beautiful darling. You're like a little angel. My little angel." She kissed her daughter's forehead.

"Do you think so? I think I look awful." Rebecca moaned, glaring at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair didn't look beautiful at all, it looked like parched straw.

"Will you stop it!" Georgina scolded. "Mama, tell her she's being ridiculous!"

Mary beamed, "You're very beautiful Rebecca. No children of mine could ever look awful!"

Both girls giggled impishly.

"Oh by the way Georgina, Aunt Rosamund is summoning you up to London for tea next week." Mary said orderly.

"What?" Georgina quickly looked up, "Why me?"

Mary shrugged, "Maybe she wants to talk to you about Joseph, I don't know."

"Have you heard from Joe lately Mama?" Rebecca asked tentatively. Joseph was always a sensitive subject around Mary.

"Not of late," Mary replied with a small smile. She absently tucked a blonde curl behind her daughter's ear, "But I'm sure he'll write back when he's – he's got the time."

"Mama, what do you think he's doing now?" Rebecca asked quietly.

Mary's lips thinned. "Well, the last I heard he was in Belgium but that was weeks ago. He might've moved by now – they move around so much it's hard to keep track… and write letters back home."

"Yes of course," Georgina said quickly.

Mary stared off into the distance sadly before plastering on a false smile, "Right you two, bedtime now yes?"

"Yes Mama," They chorused. Mary bade her daughters goodnight and then left.

As soon as their mother shut the door, Rebecca turned to her sister, her face melting into sadness. "Mama and Papa were fighting again tonight. I heard them before I came in here."

The smile on Georgina's face seeped off slowly. She sighed heavily. "What about this time?"

"Edward." Rebecca answered thinly. "Mama was badgering Papa to pull a few strings and assign Ed to a safer division but I don't think there's such a thing." She bit her trembling lip. "I'm scared for him."

"I know. But we have no choice." Georgina said patiently. "Whether we like it or not, this is the situation and we just have to accept it."

"It's not fair." Rebecca sniffed. "I just want everything to go back to the way it was."

Georgina stroked her sister's hair gently. "I know darling. Me too."

They sat in silence for the longest time before Georgina exclaimed brightly, "I know! Let's say a prayer for Joe tonight – together."

"I don't know," Rebecca said tentatively, "Wouldn't that mean we're expecting the worst to happen?"

"Of course not!" Georgina replied indignantly, "Come on," She hopped off the bed and pulled her sister off with her. She snatched Joseph's picture from her vanity table and laid it out in front of them. "We're going to pray to God to keep Joseph safe."

Both Crawley girls kneeled beside Georgina's bed and clasped their hands under their chins, Joseph's picture lay delicately on the sheets, his familiar eyes just gazing at them.

"Dear Lord, we know it's selfish of us to ask in such a desperate hour of need but we need your guidance." Georgina whispered, glancing at the picture, "Wherever Joseph is, whatever he's doing, please, we beg of you to keep him safe and return home to us soon. "

"If you're up there watching over him," Rebecca added in a small voice, "Please bring him home. Please here our prayers Lord. Amen."

"Amen." Georgina muttered.

Standing just outside the door, Lady Mary Crawley leaned against the wall, closed her eyes and breathed – "Amen."

* * *

><p>A thousand miles away in a foreign field, Captain Joseph Matthew Crawley poked his shovel into the ground, used his foot to push the spade into the coarse earth, lifted the rotten peats and tossed it behind him, repeating the motion over and over again along with his fellow comrades. It was habit which he had grown quite accustomed to over the past few months.<p>

From the second his unit stopped movement for the day, he immediately began to dig in, prompting all his men to follow. They couldn't sleep in a farm house or indoors, the enemy would bomb them in a heartbeat. Therefore they had to set up camp outside, below ground level where they were safe from artillery fire and all threats apart from a direct shell hit. Every night they would dig a slit trench, five feet deep, three feet wide and seven feet long - shaped like a letter L with a ninety degree turn to shield them from grenades should it fly into their trench.

Today was no exception.

"Come on lads, put your backs into it!" Major Bellamy shouted over the sound of grumbling soldiers. He stalked around the soldiers gouging out their bunker with a shovel but didn't use it. "If you want a place to sleep tonight – less grumbling and more digging!"

"I'll like to dig something all right," Private Hardy muttered darkly as he wiped his glittering brow.

"Hear, hear!" Private Yates sang.

Joseph chuckled, "It's like my great-grandmother used to say, you give them an ounce of power and they'll get drunk on it."

"I'll say!" Private Hardy mumbled with a grin.

"Enough chit-chat ladies!" Major Bellamy barked at the two of them.

"Yes Sir," Hardy replied formally through gritted teeth.

"Don't forget the overhead cover is important!" Joseph yelled, "It should be at least two inches thick!"

"Well look at you Captain Crawley," Hardy smirked, "A Major Bellamy in the making."

Joseph laughed, playfully shoved his friend and continued to scoop some more mud out. He gazed at his friends and sighed, "Look at us eh. Digging our bunkers and laughing like nothing's going on. A month ago Jacob was here with us and now -"

"Look -Joe mate, you can't think like that." Hardy interrupted firmly, "If you keep letting every soldier's death affect you personally then this war is going to tear you apart."

"I know." Joseph replied thinly. "But I don't like it."

"Who does?" Yates asked evenly.

"I tell you, I'll be grateful if I just get through tomorrow in one piece," Hardy breathed in despondency.

Joseph lifted his head and gazed up at the gleaming moon which frowned upon them.

"Amen." He whispered.

* * *

><p><em>To Be Continued...<em>


	10. Tea With Rosamund

**Author's Note:**Hey I'm baaaack! Sorry for the delay I was busy with essays and stuff. But I'm back and rewarding you all for your patience with a looong chapter!

Anyway I just wanted to mention that I (along with many other people I'm sure) haven't forgiven Rosamund for interfering in Mary and Matthew's relationship in series 1 - as Mary rightly said it was her meddling that cost her broken heart! :( So now, on behalf of all us Mary/Matthew shippers out there, their daughter is gonna give it to her good! And at the end, our story gets more interesting...;)

Also, in this story Edith married a rich American Rockefeller because the thought of her marrying Anthony Strallan is just...well...eeurgh!

Enjoy and please tell me what you think!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10 – Tea With Rosamund<strong>

_**December 19th 1939**_

Georgina slumped back in her seat and gazed out of the window to watch the stripped trees dancing past her amongst this dank and dismal December day.

Eventually Matthew consented to his mother-in-law's nagging to let Georgina travel up to London by herself as long as she promised to be on the doorstep of Downton Abbey by four o' clock sharp, no later, no less. Cora was keen to shift some of Rosamund's responsibility onto Georgina who was reluctant to go. She never really thought much of Great-aunt Rosamund and couldn't possibly understand her reasons for summoning her up to London in the beginning of a war but her Granny had warned her to never try and fathom the way Aunt Rosamund's mind actually worked.

Georgina unwillingly stepped off the train and mulled around St. Pancras station for about twenty minutes before she finally spotted Aunt Rosamund's chauffeur, Jerome, hurrying towards her, an apologetic look etched all over his face.

"Ah, Jerome I thought you had forgotten me!" Georgina teased with a forced smiled.

"I am so sorry to keep you waiting Lady Georgina!" Jerome said breathlessly, tipping his hat to her. "You wouldn't believe the traffic. I -I hope you haven't been waiting long?" He asked anxiously, leading her through the bustling station towards the exit.

"No, no not long at all!" Georgina lied airily, following him to the car.

Jerome skilfully opened her door. "I trust you had a pleasant journey?" He asked absently.

"Yes it was fine. Thank you." Jerome closed the door on her and quickly slid into the driver's seat.

"So I heard your brother's gone off to fight for our country," Jerome commented, pulling away from the station.

"Oh yes – Joseph left a few months ago." Georgina replied, her heart clenching at the mention of her brother, still gone. "What about your son? Timmy?"

"He's being called up in February," Jerome answered proudly.

Georgina nodded, "Good." It was all she could say. She turned and focused her attention to the city which lingered outside her window but what she saw made her gasp in shock. It wasn't the London she was used to. Of course she had read about what was going on in the Capital but she had never actually seen it with her own eyes.

Building after building was boarded up with protective sandbags and each house looked completely devoid of any emotion, there was no sign that anyone lived there at all. Clumps of colourful posters were plastered on shop doors and postboxes all over the city, advertising men and women, old and young, to contribute and do their part for the war.

They trundled down Oxford street, a place which held nothing but fond childhood memories for Georgina at Christmas time. She pressed a gloved hand to the window and watched in anguish as all her favourite boutiques stood empty and lonely save for the Christmas decorations that had been strung up to mask the solitude. They turned a corner into Regent's Street and trailed straight past The Hamilton's Toyshop. Georgina smiled thinly at the dolls, toys, games and teddy bears clustering the shop window amongst the reams of tinsel, ready for the Christmas season - just begging to distract the children of war and make them happy one more time. Georgina cast her eye curiously inside the window to see if Dominic was wandering about. No sign of him. She laughed bitterly to herself. Why would he be there?

Cars crawled along the roads with caution, even the crimson buses drove with desolation. Women scuttled along the streets, gas masks slung around their necks, pulling their children by the hand, not even bothering to stop and chat, while old men paraded the pavements with pamphlets, thrusting them upon anyone who would care to listen. Not even the promise of Christmas could plaster a smile on their faces, why should it when their husbands, or brothers, or sons, or nephews, or cousins wouldn't even be there to celebrate with them?

"It's all changed Lady Georgina," Jerome muttered softly, noticing the look of anxiety which rode upon Georgina's face. "It's worse in the evenings of course – blackouts nearly every night, air raids going off! You can't go anywhere without a damn identity card or a gas mask! This is worse than the last war. I should know – I was there!"

Georgina swallowed and licked her dry lips. She'd heard her father mention briefly about his time in the war and what had happened to him, he had nearly been crippled for life! If this was worse…

"Ah here we are!" Jerome announced cheerfully, jilting Georgina back to focus. Jerome pulled into the driveway of 145 Eaton Square. He exited his door hastily and opened Georgina's, bowing her out. She smiled wanly at him and stepped delicately out of the car, peering miserably at the great house which towered above them in the harsh light of day. The windows like many of the other homes looked as though they had been ripped out.

Adjusting her hat and smoothing out her skirt, she climbed the stone steps with tentative ease and gently pressed her finger to the doorbell, listening to the tinkling ring. Scurried footsteps were heard on the other side of the jet-black door contrasting to the eerie quietness of the London roads.

The door creaked open. A round, fatigued and rather stubby face peeked through the crack of the door.

"Yes?" The man asked suspiciously.

"Um, Mr Fulton is that you?" Georgina asked hesitantly, "I'm Lady Georgina Crawley, I'm Lady Rosamund's niece? I believe she is expecting me?"

Fulton's eyes rounded in surprise. "You're Lord and Lady Grantham's eldest daughter?"

Georgina nodded with a small smile. Mr Fulton beamed and opened the door wider. "Of course, come in Lady Georgina!"

"Thank you." Georgina stepped inside the house and took of her hat, all the while, gazing at the familiar house which now seemed like a stranger to her. The domed ceiling curved above them, emitting small streams of light but not much, thus casting a peculiar glow upon the hallway. The crystal chandelier still hung majestically above their heads along with the high polished marble floors and stone benches. To her left was the grand and winding staircase carrying delicate, Persian silk rugs which stretched right to the entryway. It remained the same design, yet the house felt different, colder somehow. Georgina felt as though she had stepped right into a Dickensian realm.

"Lady Rosamund is waiting for you in the drawing room Lady Georgina," Fulton said formally, proceeding to lead her to her Aunt.

"And how is she feeling? I know she was ill?" Georgina asked anxiously, observing the bleak, darkened rooms with their discarded furniture under the thick white sheets which had been draped mournfully over them.

"Oh – I'm sure she'll feel much better now that you're here." Fulton said in a tight voice.

"Good." Georgina replied uncertainly, not quite sure how to read into Fulton's bitter tone of voice.

"Lady Georgina Crawley your Ladyship!" Fulton announced loudly as they reached the lip of the drawing room door. The drawing room was completely drab and dark except for a small crack of light which streamed from behind the blackout curtain and of course the amber glow from the fire.

Rosamund sat in her grand rocking chair by the fireplace, staring into the dancing flames, just rocking back and forth, her claw like hand resting on the handle of her ornately carved cane. She smiled thinly as Georgina entered the room and held out her shrivelled hand in welcome.

"Mary my darling!" She croaked, "How are you?"

Georgina stopped in the middle of the room, her eyes growing wide. She glanced at Fulton in amusement, thinking this was some sort of joke. Fulton just nodded in confirmation. Georgina turned back to her aunt, "Aunt - Aunt Rosamund it's not Mary it's her daughter Georgina. Remember?"

Rosamund peered at her in confusion, "Georgina? Oh yes." She said slowly. "My goodness, you look so much like your mother I- I was confused!"Rosamund coughed a throaty laugh. Georgina returned the smile rather unenthusiastically. "Well don't just stand there child, come over here and give your aunt a kiss! How are you my dear?"

Georgina dashed towards her, "I'm very well Aunt Rosamund." She gave her Aunt a quick peck on her wrinkled cheek.

Rosamund handled her niece's long dark curls with disaproval. "Why don't you trim your hair?"

Georgina resisited the strong urge to roll her eyes. "I like my hair long Aunt Rosamund. How have you been?"

Rosamund chortled sourly, "I've had better days. Do sit yourself down my dear." She pointed to a pliable armchair right opposite her. Georgina hastily obliged her. "Would you like some tea? You've had a long journey." She surveyed her niece's long dark curls with disapproval.

"Thank you, yes that would be lovely." Georgina replied lightly, sinking into the armchair with unease.

"Tea Fulton!" Rosamund barked. Georgina gaped at her in shock, she tried to cast an apologetic glance to Fulton but he had already scampered away. "Now," Rosamund said sweetly, turning her attentions back to her grand-niece, "How is the rest of my family doing?"

"Oh, they're all right." Georgina responded nonchalantly.

Rosamund raised her eyebrow, "Just all right? Are you sure?"

Georgina shrugged, "Why wouldn't they be?"

"Well, my dear, Joseph has been gone for quite some time. Your parents and grandmothers must be beside themselves with worry." Rosamund said indifferently.

"Yes they are very worried, naturally so, but they aren't flitting around the grounds in a state of hysteria. I assure you." Georgina replied coolly. "They are trying to help out any way they can and are remaining strong."

"Still," Rosamund pressed in a voice dripping with pity, "It must be terribly awful for your father, to have to live through one war and then re-live it all over again with his sons."

Georgina sighed. She had promised her mother that she wouldn't let Aunt Rosamund disparage them. "Yes it is horrible Aunt Rosamund but we're helping each other through it."

"I can imagine what it must be like for your father, to feel so helpless when young men like your brother are -" Rosamund broke off in a fit of coughs, she pressed her handkerchief to her mouth in pain.

"Oh Aunt Rosamund!" Georgina leaped out of her seat and tried to help her aunt but she just waved her aside.

"No – no I'm fine Mary!" Rosamund wheezed, adjusting herself in her chair and not realizing she had just confused Georgina with her mother again. "Just a little episode that's all. Nothing I can't handle."

"Have you been to the doctor?" Georgina asked in concern, noticing her aunt's pallid complexion and ignoring her confusion.

Rosamund gave a tinkling laugh, "Don't be ridiculous dear, a doctor, really, what do they know?"

"Quite a lot actually," Georgina answered slowly, narrowing her eyes. "I suppose you didn't know that Edward is training to be a medic. He still wants to be a doctor."

Rosamund snorted, "No I didn't know that! I thought he'd grow out of that silly notion and pursue a more useful career such as politics like Joseph. A medic? Where did he get that silly idea?"

"He's always had it. He talked to my Granny about it while we were getting ready to announce war." Georgina replied sharply.

"Oh yes and just what brilliant answer did Cousin Isobel say?" Rosamund asked sceptically.

"She thought it was a marvellous idea." Georgina responded proudly, "She's helping out in various hospitals around the city. In fact, I felt so inspired, I was thinking about becoming an ambulance woman over here."

"Oh don't be so ridiculous Georgina!" Rosamund reprimanded, banging her cane on the floor in edginess. "You're a young lady not a nurse! You shouldn't be wasting your time bandaging wounded unfortunates when you could be spending it by attending the finest finishing schools and becoming a wonderful debutante!" Her eyes gleamed into a mad, dreamy look.

"I'm not wasting my time bandaging …! And Aunt Sybil was a nurse in the first war!" Georgina retorted tensely, "When Downton was converted into a convescelent home; Mama said that Aunt Sybil was there with my Granny day and night looking after the recuperating soldiers!"

Rosamund pulled her lips in. "Yes and I'm sure you don't need me or your Mama to tell you what happened next." She replied in a tone of finality.

Their conversation was interrupted with the arrival of the tea. Georgina, thankful for the disruption, started to busy herself with pouring the tea but Rosamund slapped her hand away.

"Let the maid do that!" She snapped impatiently, "That's why we pay them!"

The maid curtseyed quickly and took the teapot from a stunned Georgina, "Let me m'lady," She said quietly and began preparing the tea.

"I don't know where you pick up these bad habits from Georgina," Rosamund grumbled, accepting her cup. "You don't have a ladies maid, not a proper one anyway, you rarely travel up to London during the Summer to meet young suitors, you don't even have a private tutor. I don't know how your mother permits it. Your father's influence no doubt."

"I suppose the world is changing Aunt Rosamund, what with us being on the brink of war for a couple of years." Georgina said pointedly, sipping her tea. "And personally I see nothing wrong with the way we are. We're nearly in the forties. We can dress ourselves fine, life is much more than finding a husband and we don't want or need a private tutor. The Grammar school education is excellent and Papa sends us there because he wants us to appreciate the other standards of living. "

"Humph!" Rosamund scoffed, "By mixing with the local children?"

"They're wonderful!" Georgina replied defensively, "I have so many friends and their families are delightful too! We socialize well."

"I'm sure you do but that still doesn't change the obvious fact that they work in the village!" Rosamund exclaimed, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "They may be delightful but there is a time and a place to meet such people Georgina. You should be socializing with your own elite class!"

"There's nothing wrong with -"

"Which reminds me, have you any plans about what you're going to do after the war?" Rosamund interrupted keenly.

Georgina glared at her in disbelief. "No I don't have any plans!" She replied as emphatically as she could, "I really can't think that far ahead, no one can!"

"Well you'd better start thinking about it because once this war is over, which shouldn't be too long now, we need to launch you as quickly as possible." Rosamund stated excitedly. "Your exceptionally beautiful and I'm sure some Duke or Viscount will snap you right up during your very first season!"

"Oh Aunt Rosamund who knows if that whole season rubbish will even continue after the war, is there really any point for all that ridiculous feminine indolence now?" Georgina asked incredulously.

Rosamund narrowed her eyes, "Yes. Despite your father's conventional upbringing, you are still the Earl of Grantham's daughter and I take it upon my responsibility – also an Earl's daughter - to transform you into a proper lady, one that will be lavished with praise in society!"

What society was she going on about? Certainly not one in this world. "But that's not what I want to do!" Georgina protested, desperate to hammer through her aunt's mad delusions.

"Wants are for spoiled men my dear," Rosamund replied dismissively, "Let the working-class women go off to help with the war, it's what they're naturally brought up to do. They can handle it, you can't. Would you ever see a princess or a duchess climbing down a mineshaft, working in some factory or mopping up blood and sick every day? Well? Will you?"

Georgina blanched by the dryness of her tone. "Well – no I suppose not regularly but in wartime -"

"In wartime we must carry on with our lives and show everyone that nothing's changed in Britain." Rosamund declared firmly. "If you really wanted to help do your part Georgina you'll do as I say."

Georgina's jaw dropped. Could she hear herself? "Everything's changed Aunt Rosamund," She said slowly.

"Nonsense! You are a beautiful, intelligent and a very sophisticated girl - when you want to be, therefore I simply cannot – no, will not allow my great-niece's fine potential go to waste. Especially now we are at a shortage of young men." Rosamund added with distaste.

"Yes because there's a war on!" Georgina said angrily, slamming her cup down. "Who cares about what I will look like to society if I become an ambulance woman? We don't have a society not anymore! I really don't understand you Aunt Rosamund. From what I know of you, I thought you would sail along with the times, but you seem so stuck in the past. Why?"

Rosamund flinched but brushed it off with a shrug, "I don't know what you mean."

"How can you talk so casually of - of society and -and debutante balls when half the young men in this country including your nephews are out at war, risking their lives for their king and country - your king and country?" Georgina asked disbelievingly.

Rosamund glimmered at her, "Is it wrong of me to just want what's best for you in this scheme of the world when your own parents don't bother if you sink or swim?" She asked in a dangerously sugary voice.

Georgina glowered at her, "That's not fair. My parents have raised each and every one of us to be very fine noble people! It may not hold to your standards but this is a new era! Honestly, the way you talk about our family it's as if we were one step away from sleeping in the gutter!"

Rosamund arched her brow and scrutinized her niece. "You misunderstand me my dear. After this war is over, I just want you to be able to claim your rightful position in society again that's all!"

Society, society, society! Georgina was getting so damn sick of hearing that word!

"But we're still highly respected as we are, despite who we socialize with! In fact, if anything it just makes us appear more respectable." She retorted in confusion. They hadn't deliberately changed their position in the social order; it just wasn't on their top list of priorities anymore, it hadn't been from the day Joseph left. Why was Aunt Rosamund so determined to ignore that? And what if something happened to her brothers or her cousin during the war? Was she supposed to slap on a smile and parade around the Chelsea Flower Show in some silly frock while deep inside she was grieving for all the lost boys?

* * *

><p>Back at Downton, Matthew was starting to panic. He paced up and down in the library, throwing worried glances at the clock on the mantelpiece. Every now and then he would make an impatient tutting noise which was proving to be quite distracting to his son who was trying to work.<p>

"Oh for God's sake Papa, if you want to call Georgina just call her!" Edward snapped irritably, crossing out his misplacement of the jugular vein for the fourth time.

"But I don't want her to think I'm checking up on her," Matthew replied nervously, throwing yet another peep at the clock.

Edward's eyes bored into his father's, "You are though."

"Yes but I don't want her to know that!" Matthew retorted impatiently, "I told her that she's old enough to take care of herself."

"And?" Edward asked absently.

"Clearly I was wrong!" Matthew answered in a voice to panic. He lapsed into thoughtful silence while Edward took advantage of the peace. "What was I thinking Ed?" Matthew groaned suddenly, "Letting her go all the way up to London at a time like this?"

Edward flung down his pen sighed with impatience. The busy street would prove to be less of a distraction than the library at this moment. "You can't protect us forever Papa." He said shortly.

Matthew implemented a fierce look of determination. "No. But I can damn well try."

* * *

><p>Georgina sipped her fourth cup of tea, all the while, wishing that the floor would just open up and rescue her from this idle conversation. Three hours later and they were still on the topic of marriage and the damn society! Every now and then Rosamund would confuse herself again and start calling Georgina, Mary, but Georgina was too tired and too annoyed to bother correcting her.<p>

"So I suppose your parents will be perfectly happy for you to marry the local stableman if that will suit you?" Rosamund asked carelessly.

"No," Georgina answered in a voice of very forced calm, "While I have been brought up to believe that money will suffice in a marriage I was also brought up to believe that marriage is based on love too. Aunt Sybil married Uncle Tom and she had a good marriage."

"You read too many romance novels, just like your mother. That all depends on what you mean by good marriage Georgina," Rosamund said with a small smile.

"From what I heard, Great-uncle Marmaduke's grandfather was a manufacturer." Georgina said smugly, "According to you that would place him within the social ranks of half the village of Downton!"

"Nevertheless Marmaduke himself had his own fortune," Rosamund responded cuttingly, "And he was able to offer me a great position in society. Can you say the same about your dear Aunt Sybil?"

Georgina shook her head but was determined not to let Aunt Rosamund win this one.

"And your Aunt Edith," Rosamund chuckled, "Marrying a Johnny-come-lately American who was well into his late thirties, enjoying his bachelor lifestyle in New York and wasn't even considering a wife until he clasped eyes on your Aunt. Then there was no getting rid of him. You should have seen him at your parents wedding Georgina! He hovered about her like a panting dog who had just found his meat -"

"Aunt Rosamund really!" Georgina interjected sternly, "From what I've seen, Uncle Pete is a good husband and father. Aunt Edith married into old American money that gave her a very welcoming position in New York society despite her being of English nobili -"

Rosamund interrupted with a shrill laugh. "Peter's not from old American money – far from it!"

Georgina frowned. "But I thought – he's a Rockefeller isn't he?"

"Yes, yes he may have the Rockefeller name fastened at the end, but I have it on good authority to speculate that he possesses nowhere near the amount of millions which is affiliated to that superior name." Rosamund said in amusement, "In fact he owns less property than the Vanderbilt's and that's saying something. I'm afraid that's what happens when you marry the youngest of a sinfully wealthy yet large family my dear. All you can inherit is the dregs of misused fortune. I did try to tell dear Edith that on her wedding day but she just wouldn't hear any of it. I don't think she even cared to tell you the truth. People can be so blind when it comes to love Georgina. Either that or she couldn't wait to escape to the new world; so much so, she was willing to marry any Tom, Dick or Harry."

Georgina swallowed, "But she doesn't care whether he owns ten houses in Newport or none. Aunt Edith loves Uncle Pete very, very much. I know that's true." She said haughtily. "And look at my parents marriage! Love and money. What are the odds?"

Rosamund's eyes twinkled mischievously, "Say what you like about your parents – personally I think that if your father wasn't heir to your grandfather's estate, your mother wouldn't have looked twice at him."

Georgina's head jerked upwards as if she had been slapped. An aching lump began to rise in her throat. How could Aunt Rosamund say such a thing about her parents? And to their own daughter?

"I don't believe you." Georgina said pathetically.

Rosamund smirked in a self-satisfied manner, "I remember it well. When your Grandmother became pregnant right before your mother was about to say yes to your father it cast a shadow of doubt upon the two of them. If the baby was a boy – which it would have been – your mother would have been stuck being a lawyer's wife and overruled from her position in society. It tangled her ever so much. Can you imagine, a Lady and a lawyer? Ha!"

Georgina's heat beat faster, she was sure it was going to rip out of her chest. Her eyes began to sting as Aunt Rosamund's venomous words began to impregnate themselves into her mind. She had to bite her lip to stop it from trembling.

"Your mother was confused, your father was paranoid," Rosamund continued, ignoring Georgina's agitated behaviour, "And it all ended in tears – literally. Then your grandmother miscarried and your father left your mother."

Your father left your mother. Those words sounded so harsh when it reverberated themselves around Georgina's memory.

"He – he did?" Georgina shook her head in denial, "No he couldn't – he wouldn't -"

"He didn't want to be married to a woman he couldn't trust." Rosamund said swiftly.

"Couldn't trust?" Georgina repeated inaudibly, her mind spinning with confusion. Her father couldn't trust her mother? What was Aunt Rosamund saying? That her parents marriage was a lie? Georgina could barely comprehend this news; there was a thankful knock at the door.

"Enter!" Rosamund called casually.

Fulton stepped inside gracefully. "Telephone call for Lady Georgina."

"Excuse me." Georgina said icily. She couldn't exit the room fast enough. She darted towards the telephone in the hallway and accepted the receiver gratefully. "Hello."

_"It's your father."_ Matthew replied in a clipped voice. _"I'm not sure if you realize but Winter nights are much longer and it's almost half-three. When are you planning on coming home?"_

"I'm leaving now Papa." Georgina said briskly. She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from hammering out all her newfound anger and hurt on her father, desperately wanting to hear from his own voice if it was true or not.

_"Good!"_ Matthew breathed in relief. _"Make sure you catch the train straight back, no dawdling. When shall I get Travis to meet you at the station?"_

"I don't know Papa maybe six." Georgina responded tersely.

_"Six!"_ Matthew yelped. _"You leave right now do you hear!"_

"Papa."

_"Yes."_

"I need to hang up the phone if you wish me to leave." Georgina said forcefully.

_"Oh – right, yes of course."_ Matthew sputtered. _"Well – goodbye, I'll see you later."_ He hung up the phone.

Georgina cradled the receiver, wishing she had never come at all.

"Who was that?" Rosamund asked suddenly, appearing behind her.

Georgina whipped around. "Oh, just- just my father," She replied meekly, ignoring the conceited smirk that was currently plastered on Rosamund's face at the mention of Matthew, immediately after they'd been talking about him. "I think it's time I should be heading back. My father wants me out of London before nightfall."

"Oh, well in that case you should leave now. Fulton!" Rosamund yelled.

Fulton scurried into the hallway. "Yes Lady Painswick?"

"Tell Jerome to bring the car round and take Lady Georgina back to St. Pancras at once." Rosamund ordered.

"Of course m'lady." Fulton hurried away to fetch Jerome.

"Thank you Fulton!" Georgina called kindly after him.

Then very slowly, Rosamund craned her neck back to her niece, her eyes glazed over in suspicion and narrowed into dangerous slits.

"Aunt Rosamund?" Georgina asked tentatively to her sudden reaction, "Are you all right?"

"What are you doing here Mary?" Rosamund asked coldly.

Georgina sighed impatiently. Not again. "Aunt Rosamund it's not Mary it's Georgina. Remember?"

"Yes of course I remember, it was haunting me for years but honestly I don't think it's fair for you to blame me for your split with Matthew!" Rosamund hissed, pacing back and forth in agitation in front of a stunned Georgina. "I was only trying to protect your status Mary, I was only thinking of you! I told you that if you married a middle-class lawyer before your brother was born then you'd be tying yourself down to a sinking ship! How was I to know your mother would miscarry or Matthew would be so paranoid and then throw you over? If you ask me, you're well shot of him!"

Georgina couldn't move. She felt rooted to the spot. "It was you." She gasped, conscious of the fact that Rosamund only saw Mary in her now. "You were the reason why my mother hesitated to marry my father all those years ago! You were dripping poison into her ear, prodding her with the society stick, making my father seem little and pathetic in comparison to a stupid, useless noble title that's dying out now anyway! Oh, oh Aunt Rosamund how could you?"

Rosamund stopped pacing and glared at Georgina, "Don't look at me like that Mary! And since when did your eyes get so blue?" She shook her head as if she were clearing away the cobwebs, "It was a long time ago! What's past is past and you should learn to forget about Matthew Crawley and move on!"

"Answer the question!" Georgina snapped, on the verge of hysteria, tears threatening to spill, "How could you do that! You drove my parents apart! You made my father think that my mother was only after him for his money!" Georgina felt her heart accelerating with rage, anguish and betrayal. "You turned him against her and broke both their hearts because of your – meddling! Oh why couldn't you have just minded your own business!"

"Don't shout at me Mary!" Rosamund barked, her eyes gleaming with madness while her voice reverberated around the deserted hall, "You have no right!"

"I have every right!" Georgina shouted back, "And I'm not Mary, I'm her daughter, hers and Matthew's and I'm standing here because -"

"Because you're jealous, that's what you are!" Rosamund interrupted with a gloat of smugness.

Georgina released a ringing laugh, "Jealous of you? Look at you, look at what you've become. My mother is now worth ten of you!"

Rosamund nodded, ignoring her, "Yes, Mary you're jealous of me, jealous of my wealth and my position in society which I managed to keep, after you soiled your good name by bedding that Turk and ruined the whole family."

Georgina was sure her heart had stopped now. "What did you say?" She asked thinly, her voice a mere ghost of a whisper.

"I suppose you feel I should've hushed the rumours," Rosamund said lazily, "But I must say I did enjoy the gossip. I made it clear to everyone that I had nothing to do with this family and I meant it. You always were a spoiled, pampered little princess who got everything she wanted! I TOLD YOU!" She suddenly screamed, Georgina jumped. "ONCE YOU SPOIL YOUR REPUTATION YOU BECOME DAMAGE GOODS!"

"YOU LIAR!" Georgina screamed back, tears streaming down her cheeks, she didn't want to hear anymore. "I don't believe a single word of what you say! You're just trying to turn me against my mother, just like you did to my father! Well I won't listen to it do you hear? It'll take more than these lies to break me! My mother would never do something like that, never!"

"Lady Georgina?" Jerome interjected cautiously, appearing at the door looking clearly embarrassed at interrupting the heated argument. "The car's ready."

"Yes I'm coming Jerome!" Georgina replied quickly, anxious just to get out of the house. She wiped her tears away and turned back to her aunt, saying in a deadly quiet voice, "Goodnight Aunt Rosamund. I don't know if we shall meet for Christmas Aunt Rosamund but please don't invite me back up to London if you plan to insult me or my family."

Georgina practically ran out of that cursed house, she just wanted to get home. On the way to the station she watched the breaking city whir past her window without paying them much attention. A teardrop meandered down her cheek and lingered near the corner of her lips. She licked it surreptitiously and tried to pull herself together.

Jerome peered at her forlorn face through the rear view mirror, "Lady Georgina you really shouldn't listen to what your Aunt says," He sighed, "She hasn't been right for some time."

"How long has she been like that?" Georgina asked quietly.

"About six months," Jerome answered truthfully. "Sometimes she'd talk to us like we were members of your family or her late husband."

Georgina's stomach plummeted but she didn't say anything, just continued to stare out of the window.

The train rattled to a stop in front of her platform. Georgina eagerly made her way towards the first class compartment when a familiar face caught her eye. She retreated away from the car quickly and scurried down the platform towards the dark haired figure in green, loitering near the end of the platform. She caught up with him and placed a hand on his shoulder, he turned around in a hurry, his eyes widened in shock.

"Tommy!" Georgina exclaimed in surprise and welcome, "I thought it was you! Oh!" She threw her arms around her cousin and hugged him tightly which he returned half-heartedly.

"Georgina," Tommy said in uneasiness, "I - I didn't expect to see you here in London."

"I was here for the day visiting Aunt Rosamund," Georgina replied finely.

"Rosamund - of course! How is she?" Tommy asked absently.

Georgina fumbled with the truth. "She's not - she's not feeling -well."

Tommy nodded but didn't press it further. He fidgeted with his kit bag and glanced at the platform clock. "And,uh - and the rest of the family, Grandmama, Aunt Mary, Uncle Matthew...?"

"They're all well as can be expected." Georgina answered lightly. "I suppose you know about Joseph."

Tommy nodded with an unreadable expression. "I do." They stood awkwardly for a few seconds amongst the rush hour traffic.

"So how are you Tommy?" Georgina finally asked in a hushed voice, "How are you coping?"

"Fine." Tommy answered curtly. "I'm coping - fine."

"What are you doing here in London Tommy?" Georgina asked curiously, noticing her cousin's strange behaviour. "I'd have thought you'd spend your leave in Ireland with your parents."

Tommy glanced at the floor before replying in fustration, "Actually Georgie - me and Mama - we're not really on good terms at the moment. And my father threw me out of the house."

Georgina gasped, "What? Uncle Tom threw you out of the house? Now, at a time like this, why? I know Ireland's claiming to be neutral but to shaft your son because he's trying to -"

"No, no Georgina it's nothing like that!" Tommy interrupted impatiently. He peeked at the clock again, "It's just... a minor disagreement that's all."

"Why don't you come back to Downton with me, you can stay there?" Georgina suggested enthusiastically.

"No!" Tommy retorted quickly, much too quickly. "I - I mean no thanks Georgina."

Georgina blanched by the shortness of his tone. "Why? Don't you like us anymore?" She joked.

"I do but... I have some business - war business that I have to do here." Tommy said blandly. He shot another look at the clock. "I really have to go."

"Well, I know the family will be glad to know you're okay -"

"No!" Tommy grabbed Georgina's wrist in desperation then released it immediately. "Sorry, I uh - I..." He rubbed his temple in agitation, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone that you saw me here."

Georgina was about to argue but the determined look on his face forced her to relent. She nodded, "All right Tommy. I won't tell anyone I saw you here."

Tommy nodded thankfully. "Thank you. I promise I'll write to you."

"Yes, do! Bye Tommy." Georgina said slowly. The whistle blew shrilly, signalling their departure.

"That's your train." Tommy said with a forced smile.

Georgina hugged him again. "Keep in touch. Bye Tommy."

Tommy smiled warily and stalked away from her. Georgina watched him walk away with a strange expression on her face. She may be a woman but she wasn't stupid. Growing up with three brothers had taught her how to spot a liar all right. War business? She shook her head, oh Tommy, what are you hiding?

* * *

><p>To Be Continued...<p> 


	11. Suspicious Minds

**Author's Note:**Hey thanks for all the support and reviews! Here's the next chapter where they'll be a confrontation and some suspicious notions.

Also, SPOILERS for Thomas Hardy's Tess of the D'Urbevilles. If you haven't read it - well it's an awesome book!

Enjoy and tell me what you think!

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 11- Suspicious Minds<span>**

_**7:00pm**_

"So how was Aunt Rosamund today Georgina?" Mary asked passively at dinner.

Georgina toyed with the beans on her plate, her appetite wearing thin. "Fine." She answered coolly.

"Are you all right darling? You're not behaving like yourself," Matthew asked, resting down his fork and gazing upon his daughter with the utmost concern.

Georgina stretched her lips into a thin smile, "I'm just tired that's all."

"How come we don't get to see Aunt Rosamund anymore Papa?" Benjamin asked wistfully.

"Because it's too risky to travel up to London at the moment Benji," Matthew said softly.

"You let Georgina go." Benjamin pointed out quickly.

"That's because she's older."

"Is Aunt Rosamund coming for Christmas Mama?" Rebecca asked. Georgina tensed.

"Not sure, it depends on how she's feeling." Mary answered lightly.

"Edward said that she's gone mad!" Benjamin exclaimed with wide eyes.

"Well Edward should learn to keep his mouth shut," Mary snapped, glaring at her second son who looked down in shame.

"She's not mad Benji she's just – a bit confused that's all." Georgina said quietly.

"What do you mean by that?" Matthew asked with a frown.

"She means she belongs in the nuthouse!" Edward quipped.

"That's enough out of you!" Matthew scolded.

"No Papa, Edward's right," Georgina rested her cutlery down and sighed heavily. "I think she has gone a little mad. One minute she was talking to me like normal and then next minute she was talking to me thinking I was you Mama. She called me Mary and everything."

Mary exchanged a startled look with her husband while a smirking Edward let out a long whistle.

"She thought I was you?" Mary asked, puzzled.

"Well, she thought I was you – but yes, she thought we were the same person." Georgina answered sadly. "Mama what do we do?"

"Well there's nothing we can do." Mary replied casually, turning back to her food. "Mama said she was having turns but I didn't realize they were that serious."

"It is." Georgina said shortly.

"What's a turn?" Benjamin piped up.

"It means Aunt Rosamund's turning into monster!" Edward replied emphatically.

"Edward!" Mary and Matthew chided wearily.

Georgina had to practice a lot of self-control to stop herself from spilling out everything that had really happened.

"What else did she say?" Matthew asked curiously, his eyes glistening with concern. "Darling did she say something to offend you?"

Georgina stopped eating. She stared at her father longingly, desperately wanting to tell him everything. But she just couldn't do it. "No Papa. She didn't." And she went back to her food.

* * *

><p>Later that night, Georgina thumbed through her photo album. She tried to decipher the meanings behind those warm and happy smiles which were spread across her parents faces. In almost every picture they cuddled their children closer and beamed adoringly at the camera or each other, no trace of any secrets, disdain or pretence whatsoever. It was all very confusing.<p>

What if Aunt Rosamund had been lying? Was she really capable of such malice? Was her mother really that shallow to reject her father because he was middle-class? Whatever happened to marrying for love? They were married now and it might have happened a long, long time ago but it still happened…didn't it?

"But they're happy now," Georgina whispered to her fragile reflection. "Aren't they?"

Are they? An evil voice in the back of Georgina's mind, slithered towards the forefront. You've seen it yourself, they're arguing all the time now.

But that's only because they're worried about the war and Joseph.

Is it? Or maybe they've just lost the spark they once had. War is supposed to bring families together as well as push them apart. Maybe the flame that had been ignited between them at such a young age, has finally died out, maybe –

"Can you read me a story now?"

Georgina whipped around in surprise. Her building rage was interrupted by her little brother who was standing in the doorway clutching his storybook, beaming at her.

"Benji." Georgina hastily wiped away any stray tears.

"Why were you crying Georgie?" Benjamin asked worriedly, jumping onto his sister's bed. "Is it because Aunt Rosamund's mad?"

Georgina laughed wearily, "No. I'm just thinking about something she said that's all."

"What did she say?" Benjamin asked softly.

"She just doesn't understand the kind of world we live in now Benji," Georgina replied fiercely, "That's all."

"Benjamin Daniel Crawley!" Mary's indignant voice rang towards them, "I told you to pick up your toys off the staircase! Your father nearly tripped over them!"

Benjamin gasped. "Oh no Papa!" He took off running out of the room crying, "I'm sorry Papa, I didn't mean to hurt you!"

The mask slipped off. Georgina hurled herself on her bed and howled into her pillow, months of frustration, hurt and anger just came pouring out. She wept for her mother, her father, she wept for Joseph who was stuck at war, capable of death at any second, she cried for Tommy, for Edward, for Rebecca, for Benjamin and his innocence, she wept for her grandmother who had miscarried a son, she wept for her grandfather who was dead in the ground. Then finally she wept for her childhood and those precious memories which all seemed like a lie to her now.

Luckily her mother was there to rescue her from her tears before she could drown in them. Mary knocked softly on her door and opened it gently. She gazed at her daughter sniffling into her pillow.

**_March 14th 1929_**

_Mary pushed open the playroom door and heard the little sniffles coming from behind the puppet show stand. She peeked through the cranberry curtain where she could just make out her daughter's ebony head leaning against the shelf._

_"Georgina there you are!" Mary laughed, walking round the puppet show and kneeling down, "Why are you crying? We've all been so worried; you're Grandpa's ready to send out a search party!"_

_"I don't want to go out all right?" Georgina snapped, her blue eyes glaring at her mother like chips of eyes._

_Mary pursed her lips to stop herself from laughing. Oh Georgina reminded her so much of herself at that age. "Why?"_

_"Edward pushed me over!" Georgina whined, "I was showing Papa my new ballet shoes and Edward snuck right up behind me and pushed me! And Papa just put him on the naughty step!"_

_"Is that all?" Mary asked with an arched brow._

_"Yes," Georgina said sulkily, "I don't like him Mama! Can't we send him back?"_

_Mary chuckled, "No I'm afraid we can't. But I can make him say sorry. And he shan't have dessert after dinner tonight."_

_"I suppose that's fair," Georgina said wryly._

_ Mary ran her thumb over her daughter's cheek, "You shouldn't cry for such things Georgina, remember what I'm always telling you?"_

_"Proper ladies never cry for people who want to see them upset," Georgina said mechanically._

_Mary nodded and kissed her cheek, "Come wipe your eyes," She wiped the tears away, "And let us compose ourselves, put on a smile and come downstairs."_

"Georgina?" Mary whispered in alarm, "Darling." She sat on the edge of her daughter's bed and rested a hand on her shoulder. Georgina pushed herself up, squinting at her mother through her tears. Mary wiped her daughter's tears away, "What's wrong?"

"Oh Mama," Georgina sniffed, "I don't know what to do."

"About what?"

Mary was staring at her daughter with such love and concern, Georgina had to tear her eyes away. She couldn't look at her mother in the same way anymore. She didn't want to know if she had bedded someone else before her father; it was all in the past was it not? Surely she could forgive her mother, she owed it to her. But what if her father didn't know about it? Had her mother tricked him into marriage thinking it could secure her future? Oh who was she pretending, it would be eating away at her for the rest of her life if she didn't confront her mother now.

"Mama." Georgina whispered, "I have to ask you something. And I need you to tell me the truth – please."

"Of course!" Mary said in apprehension, she grasped her daughter's hand in reassurance. "Absolutely."

Georgina swallowed. Then plunged straight in. "Did you marry my father because he was the next heir and could protect your reputation after you sle – took a lover?"

Mary's eyes grew wide, her lips parted in shock at the words that just come out of her daughter's mouth. She knew, she knew, oh God she knew! Mary slid her hand out of her daughter's and looked away, the floor, the wall, the door – anywhere but at Georgina.

Georgina let her mother's hand slip out of hers, she raked her face for some kind of reaction. "Mama?" She prompted in a scared voice, her heartbeat quickening as her mother just remained in silence. "Mama?"

Mary still didn't answer. No, it couldn't be true. She had wanted her mother to deny it all to brush it off as utter fabrications and gossip.

"No of course it's not true, don't be so ridiculous Georgina!" Mary would snap. They would hug and everything would be back to the way it was.

Mary cleared her throat, still not maintaining eye contact with her daughter. Then very slowly, she licked her lips and said shaky yet cool voice, "Who told you such ghastly gossip?"

Georgina released a long held sigh before answering quietly, "Aunt Rosamund."

Mary laughed, her eyes glistening with tears, "Yes! Yes of course she would!" She stood up roughly and paced around the room, "She just can't leave the past where it is can she? As if I didn't have enough to worry about?"

Georgina stared at her. "Mama? You haven't answered the question! Is it true?"

"Of course it isn't true!" Mary yelled, tears spilling down her cheeks, "How can you – you my own daughter think it?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry!" Georgina cried, leaping off her bed and rushing to her mother. She threw her arms around her tightly, "I know Aunt Rosamund's mad but I didn't think she'd be evil enough to – to spread lies about you! I knew you'd never marry Papa for his title, or be with another man before him!"

Mary detached herself from her daughter quickly, pushing her at arm's length. Georgina held onto her mother in confusion. "Mama?"

Mary wrung her hands nervously, "That part – isn't entirely a lie." She said hesitantly.

Georgina's stomach plummeted. "Excuse me."

"It was a long time ago!" Mary protested, ignoring those stunned blue eyes that reminded her too much of Matthew's when she first told him all those years ago.

"Mama do you mean to say Aunt Rosamund was actually telling the – truth!" Georgina raged.

Mary groaned. "I was about your age, I was young, rebellious – oh God I know it's no excuse but it's all in the past." She smoothed her daughter's hair and said with reassurance, "Darling your father knows about it and he agrees that it's dead and buried. You, your brothers and sister were all born out of love – purely love, not duty, love!"

Georgina didn't know what to think, her mind was spinning. "Mama, Aunt Rosamund also said that you hesitated Papa's first proposal because Grandmama's baby might've been a boy. Is that true?"

"No." Mary said firmly, "I admit, I did have a few doubts but it was because Rosamund kept dripping all this – this poison into my ear!"

"I believe that." Georgina muttered.

"But I love your father and would've said yes in a heartbeat if I could have that time back." Mary said softly. "I promise you."

Georgina smiled thinly. It wasn't what she had expected but she could easily forgive her mother. What's past, was past and for the first time in her life, Georgina saw that her mother wasn't just a mother – she was a woman too.

"Mama why are we crying over this?" Georgina said with a grin, "What are you always telling me?"

"Proper ladies never cry over people who want to see them upset!" Mary and Georgina chorused, followed by a watery chuckle.

"So am I forgiven then?" Mary asked gently.

"Of course!" Georgina replied with sincerity and they embraced each other. She thought she heard the creak of footsteps hurrying away outside her room but saw no one there when she glanced at the door.

"Is that all that happened today?" Mary sniffed, rubbing her daughter's back tenderly.

Georgina bit her lip. She pulled herself away to face her mother with a troubled expression. "Well – actually Mama something else happened today which I - well I promised him I wouldn't say a word but -"

"Promised who?" Mary interrupted sharply, her dark eyes narrowing.

"Cousin Tommy," Georgina answered in a hushed voice.

"Tommy?" Mary repeated in an even lower voice, "As in our Tommy? Tommy from Ireland? Aunt Sybil's Tommy?"

"Yes!" Georgina said emphatically, "I saw him on the platform in London when I was leaving. I couldn't believe my eyes! I ran up to him and hugged him but - Mama he seemed so different."

"Different how?" Mary asked worriedly.

"Well I invited him up here for dinner tonight but he was dead set against it. He doesn't want anyone to know he was in London."

"Why is he in London?" Mary asked in a voice close to hysteria. "Is he – is he on leave, is he visiting a friend there, what?"

"Well – he said that he was there on war business." Georgina said incredulously.

"War business?" Mary reiterated sceptically, "What kind of war business?"

"I don't know but he also said something about Uncle Tom throwing him out of the house." Georgina replied hesitantly.

"What?" Mary gasped, "Sybil never said anything to me about that. When was this?"

Georgina shrugged, "Not sure. But he was very closed up about things. He seemed so distant Mama. I was thinking about calling or writing a letter to Cousin Siobhan and asking if she knows what's been going on in that house or what Tommy's been up to. She's bound to know why Uncle Tom threw her brother out, isn't she? If Aunt Sybil won't say anything I'm sure Siobhan will. We've always been close, she'll tell me."

"She will but that might not be enough. We need a higher power than Siobhan." Mary growled, rising from the bed and storming out of the room. Georgina cursed herself and scampered after her mother.

* * *

><p>Rebecca Crawley sat in her favourite armchair in the library with 'Tess of the D'Urbeville's' open on her lap. She stared blankly at the first page, thinking of her parents. Rebecca had always sought comfort in the library. She had read every single book on the shelf. It was her haven.<p>

Tonight it was the first place she headed to after hearing what she did. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop on her mother and sister but she was on her way, returning Georgina's perfume when she had heard her sister ask if their mother had married their father for protection after she had bedded someone else. At first Rebecca was stunned, she felt as though someone were choking her. It was one thing to hear such a statement but it was another thing entirely to hear her mother admit to it!

Rebecca desolately turned the first page over. It was the first title she thought of after hearing her mother's sordid confession. Georgina might've forgiven her but Rebecca didn't know if she could. Right now she felt as though she were living a lie.

The door creaked open, followed by the soft entrance of her father, newspaper cluctched under his arm. Rebecca's heart broke for him. He was a good man and she couldn't understand how he could be so forgiving towards her mother even if it meant she wouldn't have been born. Now she thinks that would've been for the best.

"Becky," He exclaimed in surprise as he saw her seated there. He sauntered towards her with a knowing smile,"Ah. What book are we re-reading tonight then?"

"Tess of the D'Urbevilles," Rebecca said pointedly, searching her father's face carefully for his reaction, "It's one of my favourites."

Matthew's smile wavered. "Is it? I didn't know that. I thought you were more of a Dickens or Gaskell or Austen fan than a Hardy supporter."

"Oh no Papa, I think I've changed my mind," Rebecca said indifferently, ruffling the pages in front of him, "You see - I've recently become quite attached to Thomas Hardy's novels. All the female protagonists remind me of myself, what with us living in the country."

"But - but surely you don't - see yourself as..." Matthew indicated the book on Rebecca's lap without finishing his sentance. He couldn't.

"Not Tess in particular," Rebecca said innocently shutting her book, "But you see it wasn't her fault that Alec took advantage of her. Angel was quite harsh to just reject her like that when he claimed to love her, especially after he had just recited 'for better or for worse!'" Matthew shamefully glanced at the floor. "But," Rebecca watched her father closely, "He forgave her in the end."

"Yes he did." Matthew whispered, kneeling down in front of her. "But it was too late. And you must never, never leave things till the last minute if you ever want to make amends because sometimes it can affect a person's entire destiny. Understand?" He spoked with such sincerity it was hard for Rebecca to try and coax the truth out of him.

She wanted to scream, "Why did you take her back? She betrayed you!" But she couldn't.

"I hope Benji wasn't too upset about his toy soldiers," Rebecca said cautiously, desperately wishing to change the subject. "All though it is his own fault, he shouldn't have left them strewn about next to the staircase!"

Matthew gave his daughter a weary smile and squeezed her hand, "Well I promised him I'd glue them together tomorrow."

"I heard him crying." Rebecca said awkwardly.

"Yes I had to read Peter Rabbit to him until my throat was hoarse!" Matthew said deeply followed by a tired laugh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, "If it's not one child it's another."

"MATTHEW!" Mary bellowed.

"Or your mother," Matthew added lightly, standing up and bracing himself as Mary barged straight into the library with his daughter trailing close behind her.

"Mama!" Georgina yelled, "I promised Tommy I wouldn't say anything?"

"Tommy?" Edward said quickly, catching on to the name on his way past the library. He stumbled into the room looking concerned, "What about him, is he all right?"

"Georgina has something to say." Mary said coolly without looking at anyone.

Matthew smiled in confusion at his daughter. "Georgina?"

Georgina sighed heavily and retold the whole story again, for the benefit of her father and brother. "And so when I asked him up for dinner he was terrified of anyone finding out he was there." She finished in a timid voice.

"It's certainly very odd," Matthew said with a frown, "I don't know what kind of war business he could be up to other than leave."

"But why didn't he just say that to her then?" Edward asked harshly, "He's hiding something."

Mary released a horrified gasp, "Oh God Matthew… has he gone AWOL?"

"No!" Matthew answered uncertainly, "He – he…" Matthew couldn't find the right words. He remembered the amount of times when he himself had been on the brink of running away and never coming back. He wouldn't blame Tommy if he did.

"That's it, I'm calling Sybil!" Mary declared defiantly, darting to the phone.

"Papa!" Georgina moaned desperately prompting Matthew to reach over and clap his hand tightly over his wife's on the receiver.

"Mary," He said in a warning but gentle voice, "Let's just think about this first."

"There's nothing to think about Matthew," Mary hissed, "If our nephew's gone AWOL it's a criminal offence, which makes him a fugitive, which involves my sister, which makes it our responsibility. So let go of my hand and let me call her!"

"Mary, Tommy might not be AWOL." Matthew said pointedly, "I'll admit there is something wrong about the way he fobbed Georgina off but just let me find out what I can before we start worrying Sybil."

Mary relented, allowing her husband to move her hands off the receiver. "Fine." She whispered. "Who are you going to talk to?"

Matthew glanced at his children who were staring intently at them before saying calmly, "You know the – the people who I have been in cahoots with about the secret operation over in Crawley House?"

Mary nodded, "Do you think they might know?"

"I'll ask them about Ireland. And what's going on over there. I won't mention Tommy's name but I can find out about the Irish soldiers." Matthew promised. "As conscription is voluntary – it shouldn't be too hard to narrow them down."

"All right." Mary rubbed her forehead tiredly, "I just hope this turns out to be a big misunderstanding."

"Do you think that's why he's in trouble?" Rebecca asked anxiously, "Because he voluntarily joined on behalf of us?"

"It would be horrible if that were the case," Mary breathed, "And even more beastly of Tom to throw him out for risking his life!"

"I think we're just overreacting." Edward said offhandedly, lazily flinging himself down on the couch. "Maybe Tommy really is on leave but he's living in some dingy little boarding house in the East End somewhere. And he didn't want to tell Georgina because he was embarrassed." He turned to his sister with an arched brow, "I mean you did invite him back to this great palace!"

"And asking me to keep our meeting a secret?" Georgina shot back, crossing her arms and glaring at her brother. "What was that all about?"

"Well maybe he didn't want Grandmama summoning him up here on his time off," Edward said thinly, "I mean Joe did it. Why can't he."

The room fell awkwardly quiet.

"You're right Edward." Mary said with a light smile, "Maybe I'm just – paranoid."

Matthew pulled her close, "You're worried about your nephew as if he were your own son. I love Tommy too and would protect him any way I can. But maybe he's living in London and was there on leave and seemed embarrassed of his living conditions."

"Well he shouldn't be." Mary sniffed. "He is still a Crawley. He has as much a right to live here as our children do."

"I know but Tom doesn't seem to think so." Matthew replied quietly. "He made his feelings perfectly clear last summer, when the war seemed inevitable."

Edward laughed out loud, "Now that was after-dinner entertainment! Papa and Uncle Pete on one end of the table with Uncle Tom on the other asking them to step outside!"

Matthew closed his eyes and sighed in exhaution at his son's inconsideration.

"You didn't have to encourage it!" Georgina retorted sharply.

Edward held his hands up in defeat. Mary smiled at her youngest daughter who was still curled up in the armchair.

"Rebecca sweetheart don't you think it's time for bed?" She asked sweetly.

Rebecca picked up her book and turned to her father. "Goodnight Papa," She said warmly. Rebecca then gazed at her mother with a glazed look."Goodnight Mama." She said coldly before marching out of the library, leaving her bewildered parents to stare after her.

* * *

><p>"So do you really think Tommy will be all right?" Mary asked anxiously as Matthew crawled into bed beside her, "Because I can still call Sybil."<p>

Matthew kissed her head. "I will talk to some people and get some information on Tommy's whereabouts. I might not be a General but I do know people."

"Ah yes, that operation at Crawley House," Mary said with a small smile, "And are we going to find out what this operation is going to be anytime soon?"

"Not yet." Matthew replied with a smirk, "But I promise you after Christmas I'll tell you everything."

Mary shifted herself up onto her elbow so she could see her husband better, "But why Crawley House though? Why not here, there's enough room!"

Matthew gave her a hollow laugh, "I don't think so. Not what we have planned."

Mary frowned, "What do you have planned?"

Her husband smiled sneakily and tapped his nose. Mary sighed. Men and their secrets. All she could think of that night was Tommy. He could very well be on leave, living in London during his time fighting, it would certainly make sense. However she still couldn't ignore the morsel of instinct which was screaming that something was wrong. Very wrong.

* * *

><p>To Be Continued...<p> 


	12. Christmas Wishes

**Author's Note:**Hey everyone thanks for all the reviews and support! This chapter has a morsel of a future storyline injected into the first part so watch out for it and tell me what you think! And there's some inclusion of Joseph's life before the war as well.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12 - Christmas Wishes<strong>

_**December 24th 1939**_

"Benji sit still!" Mary snapped as her youngest son continued to writhe impatiently during the Christmas Eve service.

"Eddie keeps trying to tickle me!" Benjamin hissed, clamouring onto his father as he tried to lean away from Edward's surreptitious hand which was resting innocently behind his little brother.

"Benji," Matthew whispered through gritted teeth, gently but firmly pushing him away, "Just ignore him."

Mary slapped Edward's hand away, "Will you stop annoying your brother!"

"I'm not doing anything!" Edward protested indignantly.

"You did!" Benjamin retorted hotly. Edward angrily poked him in the arm, fortunately not gone unnoticed by his father.

"Edward stop it!" Matthew scolded, "How old are you? If you carry on we'll have to split you two up in front of everyone so save yourself the embarrassment and sit still! And that goes for you too young man." Matthew cast his youngest son a stern look and he stopped wriggling and sat as still as he could. Matthew tried not to giggle at the sight of Benjamin's little arms crossed in a huff, his face screwed up in an irritated frown.

Father Stevens droned on continuously about how the community needed to pull together as one now that the world is at war. Mary clenched her hands together on top of her bible wanting to scream. Father Stevens had replaced Father Byrne who was a long and respected member of the parish. He had christened all of Mary and Matthew's children before he died last year. Father Stevens was in his early forties and considered quite a catch among the unmarried women in the village – old and young. But Father Stevens was too busy to notice or care. He was connected to so many of the families in his congregation. This was his first Christmas service and it was also the first Christmas many of the families would spend without their sons, fathers, brothers or sweethearts. It this time last year, they were holding their breaths, waiting for the announcement to be broken, shattering their lives forever.

Mary bit her lip in delight as Benjamin's head lolled onto Edward's shoulder. Edward stiffened and shot a look of incredulity at his father who was trying not to laugh as Benjamin snoozed peacefully on his brother's shoulder.

Mary then found her mind wandering as she stared at the stance where the reverend stood. She glanced at the aisle with a thin smile, remembering when she had walked up to Matthew, pledging to stand by him through better or for worse. Was losing a child to war supposed to count in that vow? It seemed like an eternity since they had made those promises to each other yet they had come through so much together, like their children's births, the great depression, miscarriages, deaths, Matthew's decision to join parliament and now war. Mary almost laughed out loud as she ticked it all off in her head. This had to be the greatest test of all, surely.

A ripple of laughter flowed through the church as Reverend Stevens said something funny, but Mary was past paying attention. Instead, she was remembering her eldest child.

_**November 16th 1920**_

_Mary tenderly handed her baby over to Reverend Byrne who welcomed him with open arms._

_Joseph genially stared at Reverend Byrne with his glittering blue eyes as cold water was poured over his head. "I now Christen you - Joseph Matthew Crawley." Matthew and Mary beamed at each other. Matthew felt an involuntary surge of pride at the mention of his own name and a part of his wife's middle name, intertwined with his son's, binding them legitimately together through him. He had been christened. Now it was official. Joseph Matthew Crawley was here and he wasn't going anywhere._

_Reverend Byrne balanced Joseph in his hand, dipped his fingers in the water and leaning the baby just over the bowl traced the cross on his wrinkled forehead, "In the name of the father," Joseph's face screwed up as the cold water trickled down his face. "And of the son," Joseph began to mew, "And of the holy ghost amen."_

_Matthew warmly prised his son out of the reverend's grasp and pacified him gently, before he started to howl._

Mary was quickly jilted away from her pleasant memories as everyone rose to sing 'Hark the Herald Angels.'

"Joseph's favourite," Rebecca sighed to Georgina over the introduction.

Matthew picked up Benjamin and carefully slung him over his shoulder so he could sleep peacefully. Not even the noise of the music or the warm, heartfelt congregation singing could wake him up. Mary exchanged a small smile with him, trying hard to ignore the blatantly obvious fact that her family was missing a very important member.

After the service Mary hung back hesitantly. "You go on ahead," She said to her husband, "I want a quick word with Father Stevens."

Matthew nodded in understanding, "All right," He whispered so as not to wake his sleeping son, "Edward will escort you back home."

Edward groaned inwardly, "Fine Mama. I'll be waiting outside." He crammed his cap back on his head and sauntered out of the church.

Mary waited until the congregation had emptied out completely before creeping up to Father Stevens who was packing his bible away. He looked up as Mary approached him, his liquid brown eyes lighting up in surprise.

"Ah Lady Grantham!" He said in welcome.

Mary waved her hand dismissively, "Please, please Father Stevens call me Lady Mary."

"Propriety is always my nature Lady Grantham," Father Stevens said with a laugh, "I hope my first Christmas service wasn't too boring."

Mary laughed, "If you're referring to my little boy I'm afraid he was just tired. It's past his bedtime. I actually thought that – the service was wonderful." Mary added thinly, failing to mention that she had been scolding her children through half the service and daydreaming through the other half.

Father Stevens however smiled warmly at her compliment, "Thank you. That means so much coming from you." He stared at her intently for a split second before indicating she sit down. "Now what can I do for you?"

"I – I don't want to waste your time -"

"Nonsense! You know I always have time for you." Father Stevens said firmly, guiding her to the front pew.

"Well," Mary sat down slowly. "Father Stevens. I wanted to talk to you about - honesty. Today Benjamin kept asking if it's safe for Santa Claus to fly his sleigh in the sky." Mary released a bitter laugh, "What was I supposed to tell him. More lies?"

"Ah." Father Stevens smiled and joined her. "All right Lady Grantham – Lady Mary," He corrected under Mary's stubborn stare, "I can understand what you're going to say."

"Can you?" Mary interrupted sharply, "Because I'm sorry Father Stevens, you know how much I respect you, but I can't sit here and pretend to understand you preaching about – what is right, telling the truth and God's plan when my eldest son is out there risking his life and my youngest son is too curious to just leave well enough alone!"

"Children thrive to know what we don't want them to," Father Stevens said in amusement, "It's all part of life."

Mary sniffed, "Yes well as my late grandmother would say, you know what curiosity did to the cat."

Father Stevens chuckled; Mary couldn't help but smile at his pleasant laugh. "I suppose Benjamin takes after his mother."

"Oh no, he most definitely takes after his father." Mary replied fondly, "I see more of Matthew in him every day."

Father Stevens's eyes grew small, "How is Lord Grantham doing?"

Mary shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine Father. He never tells me anything."

"You are husband and wife," Father Stevens said placidly, "You shouldn't be keeping secrets from each other."

"Oh no it's nothing like that!" Mary protested, "It's just – I want so desperately to just reach out to him and understand what's going on with our son. Our son! But he won't tell me. He's the only one who's close to understanding what Joseph is going through and I want to know! I might not understand but can't I be the one to make that decision? Don't I have a right to know, I mean it's like you said father - we are husband and wife after all. I will force myself to understand, for him."

Father Stevens licked his lips. "Lady Mary – Do you know the reason why I committed myself to the church?" Mary shook her head. "Because of what I saw in the first war." Father Stevens said with a sad smile. "I was so young, wild. I was what you would call – a cad! But I was so lucky to make it through that carnage alive. And after what I saw I vowed to make a difference. Believe me Lady Mary, Joseph might come stronger through this."

"Oh Father Stevens why is God doing this to us again?" Mary asked, her voice vibrating with unshed tears. "Why can't Matthew and I grow old together and watch our children and grandchildren grow? Haven't we been tested enough?"

"Lady Mary we cannot attempt to fathom the way God's mind works." Father Stevens said patiently.

"Why not?" Mary moaned.

"Because there is a greater purpose than just our happiness." Father Stevens took her hands in his and said softly, "This war will bring a definite change in your family. Maybe a good kind of change. Maybe a - not so good change." Mary cast her eyes despondently at the floor. "But whatever happens, think of it – not as Joseph fighting for the country but for his children and his grandchildren, maybe even his great-grandchildren. Generations from now, your great-great grandchildren are going to look back at Matthew and Joseph and Edward and say – that was my great-great grandfather or great-grandfather fighting in that war."

Mary tried not to sigh. "Father Stevens with all due respect, I don't think my - grandchildren, or great-grandchildren or whoever can look upon this war with respect. And I can't see any way of seeking peace of mind."

Father Stevens smiled thinly, "Lady Mary I believe that through faith we can have peace with our Lord."

"Oh I do have faith!" Mary snapped angrily, "I have faith pouring out of my eyes every night when I kneel down before him and beg him to keep my boy safe, so when am I supposed to receive this peace you talk about!"

Father Stevens stroked his thumb gently over Mary's hand, "Ssh," He soothed, "You're a mother and you feel your attachment to your son is as strong as ever now he's away."

"Yes," Mary breathed through her tears, "That's – that's exactly how I feel."

Father Stevens's dark eyes wandered to Mary's full red lips, "I think that - you're magnificent." He said hoarsely.

Mary blushed, "Stop it," She said modestly.

"No I'm serious," Father Stevens said with sincerity, "You're willing to move heaven and earth for your husband's happiness and I can't tell you how - how important that quality is nowadays. Especially as a wife. Lord Grantham doesn't understand..."

Mary felt her heart quicken in fear. She didn't feel very comfortable under Father Stevens's gaze…

"Mama?"

Mary and Reverend whipped around in surprise. Mary snatched her hand out from Father Stevens's grasp as though his touch burned her skin. She quickly wiped her tears away and stood up as Edward approached her down the aisle, with apprehension.

"Is everything all right?" Edward asked inquisitively, casting a distrustful look at Father Stevens who looked rather disgruntled at the interruption.

Mary swallowed. How long had Edward been there? "Yes, yes darling everything's absolutely fine." She said airily. "Father Stevens and I were just talking." Father Stevens stepped aside to let her sidle past awkwardly. "Let's go home."

Mary marched ahead of her son steadfastly, not daring to look back, her heels clicking loudly on the tiled floor. Edward remained rooted to the spot, his narrowed gaze lingered momentarily on Father Stevens.

"Can I help you Mr Edward?" Father Stevens asked in a cool voice, unnerved by Edward's stare.

Edward smirked slightly and shook his head. "No Father Stevens. I'm absolutely fine." And he turned on his heel and followed after his mother.

* * *

><p>Georgina sat alone in the dim light of the kitchen, enjoying the quiet. As there was a war, Matthew had decided to give all the servants time off for Christmas so they could spend it with their families, completely refusing to give in otherwise. He insisted that this generation of the Grantham nobility could 'fend for themselves,' for a week.<p>

Georgina sighed absently, reading the letter she was writing as an obligation to her best friend Amelia who had been enquiring about Joseph. Georgina had received many hysteric letters from her friends in high society, some whom she barely spoke to except at the occasional event. But naturally as Joseph was the next heir to the Earl of Grantham and Downton Abbey, he was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. So when he left for war the letters from suitable young maidens came pouring in.

That was after the split of course. Joseph had maintained a strong relationship with their best childhood friend, Lady Amelia Napier but he split from her before he joined the army, upsetting both her family and his. Amelia was loved by the whole family. She was sweet, kind and considerate and Joseph was adored by her parents who were old and dear friends with the Grantham family. The only people who were happy about this split were the rest of the nobility and wealthy families in society who were desperate to grapple their hooks into Amelia or Joseph either for themselves or their sons or daughters.

Everybody assumed Amelia and Joseph were going to get married once Joseph graduated from University and her father Evelyn and Mary were excited at the prospect of their two families uniting. Mary felt very much at ease with Amelia being the next Lady Grantham as she had been in and out of Downton since she was born, exploring every nook and cranny with Joseph and Georgina.

But as soon as Joseph felt war was on the horizon, he thought it wasn't fair to tie Amelia down with the heavy burden of losing her future husband so he painfully let her go, despite his parents, (and grandmothers) heavy protests. Amelia accepted Joseph's decision with grace and respect. If she cried, she didn't let him know about it. She insisted they remain friends as they had done when they were children and ordered him not to go to war an unhappy man because of her. She wouldn't be angry with him.

These thoughts raced through Georgina's mind as she scribbled the letter. She was interrupted by a soft knock on the back door. She frowned, thinking it might be one of the servants who'd forgotten something, so she quickly unbolted the back door. When she opened it, she saw a familiar silhouette dressed neatly in his olive green wear, lounging against the doorframe. Georgina clutched the door for support.

"Is this Downton Abbey?" The figure said with a hint of cockiness in his voice.

Georgina gripped the doorframe, steadying herself. "My God. Is it really you?" She breathed.

The figure laughed, filling her heart with joy, "It's really me."

* * *

><p>Georgina raced up the stairs, two at a time, her heart was pounding in excitement. She rapped on her parents door several times, her head dizzy with happiness.<p>

"Georgina, really!" Mary chided tiredly as she eventually stumbled into the bedroom, she shifted herself up, scrutinizing her daughter's crimson face and impish grin. "What on earth is the matter? You're going to wake the whole house!"

"The house is practically empty anyway!" Georgina responded dismissively, rushing towards her and seizing her hand. "Where's Papa?"

"He's in the bathroom – what're you doing?" She whined as Georgina tried to tug her out of bed.

"I need to show you something Mama!" Georgina said excitedly, "Call it…" She glanced at the bedside clock: An hour till midnight, "An early Christmas present!"

Mary glimmered at her daughter in annoyance, "You do know I was asleep?"

"It's really good!" Georgina pressed.

"You couldn't wait until the morning? Honestly, 'just one more child Mary what's the harm?' Ha!" Mary scoffed, sliding back under the covers, turning her back on her daughter but she wouldn't give up.

"Please Mama!" Georgina pleaded, reaching for her hand again, "Trust me – you'll love this."

"What's going on?" Matthew asked with interest as he sauntered out of the bathroom, "Georgina what are you doing here?"

"There's something you and Mama really need to see!" Georgina gushed, her dark blue eyes twinkling in excitement.

"Really darling can't it wait till the morning?" Matthew asked politely, stifling a yawn.

Georgina clasped her hands under her chin and pouted, "Please, please, please, please -!"

"Oh all right, for one moment's peace!" Mary huffed, flinging the covers off. She turned to her husband with a scowl. "You promised me they grew out of this at ten!"

Matthew shrugged, "Our children are the exception."

Georgina seized her parents hands and pulled them out of the room and down the stairs, giggling with suppressed joy, her heart pumping with exhilaration at the surprise which awaited her parents in the drawing room. Doors opened on their way down the stairs.

"What's going on? Are we being bombed?" Edward called out sleepily.

"I heard shouting!" Rebecca yelled in confusion.

"Brilliant, Georgina you've woken the whole house!" Mary sighed.

"SANTA!" Benjamin screamed in glee, standing at the top of the stairs, clutching his teddy bear and looking very much wide awake.

"And it's master," Matthew muttered, turning back to his children, "Go back to bed you three!"

"No they should see this too Papa!" Georgina said quietly, pausing with her handle on the drawing room door.

Edward, Rebecca and Benjamin eagerly tripped downstairs and clustered around their parents and sister outside the drawing room.

"So what's going on?" Edward murmured, pointing at the door curiously, "What's in there?"

"It's Santa!" Benjamin hissed, about to explode with excitement.

Edward snorted, "Don't be ridiculous! Santa's not -" Matthew gave him a hard shove, Edward grunted in pain. "Not – not here yet," Edward added hastily, rubbing his upper-left arm.

Georgina took a deep breath, grinning, "Merry Christmas everyone." She turned the handle slowly and pushed the door open.

The figure turned around to face them, beaming with inexpressible contentment. The Crawley's released a shocked gasp as he faced them. They stood fronting each other, hardly daring to breathe for fear it might just be an illusion. Little Benjamin was the first to break the filled silence.

"Joseph!" He squealed, tearing into the room to be swept up tightly in the arms of his beloved big brother. Joseph clutched his baby brother closer to him and hugged him so hard he cried out, "Ouch that hurts!"

"Sorry," Joseph apologized quickly, reluctantly releasing him, "I'm just – so happy to see you!" He ruffled Benjamin's hair.

"My God," Matthew choked, staggering into the room, his arm outstretched. He pulled his son into a tight embrace, "My boy! My boy you're home!"

Joseph was completely overwhelmed with emotion. "It's so good – to be home Papa."

Mary gently approached her eldest son, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung on tightly to him, pressing her lips to his cold cheek. Joseph just closed his eyes and savoured his mother's embrace. "I can't believe you're here." She whispered in disbelief. "I must be dreaming."

Joseph pulled away and smiled, "That's exactly what I'm thinking. But it's not a dream. "He turned to his father with a small frown, "Is it?"

"No," Matthew laughed softly, "It's not a dream son." He cupped his head with his hand and said directly, "You're home and you're safe -" He swallowed the fated words, 'for now,' adding smoothly, "Here for Christmas with your family."

"I'm here for Christmas." Joseph repeated with a grin, "I'm here for Christmas!" He yelled with glee, sweeping Rebecca into a strong embrace while she screamed in delight.

Edward shuffled awkwardly up to his brother, clapping him on the shoulder he said evenly, "I'm glad you're not dead Joe."

"Edward!" Georgina, Mary and Matthew reprimanded.

Joseph just chuckled, "Same old Eddie!" He grabbed his brother and pulled him into an unwanted hug, "God I've missed you, you irritating little brat!"

"Joe – get off!" Edward insisted thickly, pushing his way free and blushing in embarrassment.

Matthew smirked, "It's good to see you two boys are back on old terms again."

Edward glowered at his father, smoothing out his pyjamas. Benjamin tugged on his shirt, he batted his hand away impatiently but Benjamin persisted.

"What do you want?" Edward snapped, bending down to his level.

"Santa Claus was here tonight Eddie," Benjamin whispered smugly. "I know he was."

"How?" Edward asked in amusement.

Benjamin grinned, "Because I asked him to bring Joseph back home for Christmas."

* * *

><p><em>To Be Continued...<em>


	13. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**Hey guys thanks for the reviews and the support! Sorry for the delay in updating but I had to edit this chapter due to structure issues! But I think I have it sorted now.

Anyway this chapter focuses on Joseph's homecoming and some insight into his relationship with Tommy.

So read and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 13 – Homecoming<span>**

**_December 25th 1939_**

The snowflakes flitted softly outside the window while twilight crept upon them, signalling the end of a perfect Christmas. The Crawley family huddled together comfortably in the familiar haven of the library, basking in the warmth of the crackling fire after an exhaustingly perfect day. They were all full from a delicious lunch prepared by the women who had mastered the job to the very best while the men acted as footmen and served the women before they took their own seats. Matthew had been right. Fending for themselves was surprisingly easy and altogether enjoyable as it brought the family together.

Benjamin happily sat amongst the strewn remnants of wrapping paper, muttering to his new toy soldiers and Rebecca eagerly retreated to her usual corner to bury her nose in a brand new novel. Isobel tried to coax her away from the corner and include her into the social gathering but she impatiently brushed it off, desperate to make a dent in her new book.

"Oh just leave her be Granny," Edward interjected with irritation, "If she wants to be anti-social then let her!"

So the adults settled in their usual seats and indulged in mildly cheerful conversation, deliberately avoiding any topic of the war as they were fully attune to Joseph's rigid composure whenever it was mentioned. During the whole day Matthew had successfully managed to steer around the conversation whenever Joseph mentioned how hungry he was or joked about how he had never slept so well, forcing the rest of his family to pick up on his prohibition to ask Joseph anything about the war. Benjamin was desperate to get his questions answered but Matthew politely changed the subject whenever he piped up anything war related. Joseph was truly grateful for his father's interference, shooting him a thankful smile whenever he interrupted on his son's behalf.

Even though Georgina strongly expressed her opinions on the matter, Matthew had politely invited Rosamund up to Downton for Christmas but she haughtily declined, insisting that she was too ill to make such a journey and hinted heavily that they should come to her instead.

"She just wants someone to shower her with attention!" Mary had said in exasperation once her husband had related the situation to her, "She wants us all to drop our lives here and jump on the next train to London as soon as possible because we have nothing better to do! We'll visit her on Boxing Day for the sake of duty, how about that?"

So the gathering for Christmas at Downton this year was strictly limited to the family only and what with the servants away, the house had never seemed so incomplete, despite Joseph's presence.

While Edward gorged on mince pies, Joseph quietly pulled his chair next to Georgina so they were seated further away from everyone, allowing them to talk privately. Joseph checked to make sure his family were deeply involved in Cora's latest gossip about the Earl of Doncaster before leaning over and whispering to his sister, "So how is everyone? Really?"

"We're staying strong Joe," Georgina replied softly, "Don't worry about us. You just concentrate on what you need to do."

"I am," Joseph said with sincerity, "But I also need to know you're all okay."

"Joe," Georgina started in a stern voice, reminding him forcibly of their mother, "You know very well we are far from okay but let's not discuss it now." She glanced at her family in the sitting area, tittering at some sarcastic comment Edward made. "I suppose you heard Edward's been made Captain."

"Yes I heard," Joseph mumbled, staring at his brother who was now insulting the Earl's daughter. "How is he?"

"Well, like I told you, he's prancing around the abbey pretending like he's off on some great adventure!" Georgina answered in a tone laced with acidity. "Papa has been tearing his hair out trying to make him see reason – like you!"

Joseph sighed into his hands, "Georgie – I have to say, I'm so, so sorry for making you tell Mama and Papa about my transfer to the second division. It was such a cowardly thing to do. When I received your letter, scolding me for making you tell them I didn't realise just how much all this is affecting you."

"Yes well," Georgina said in a clipped voice, "I still haven't forgiven you for that. You're not here Joe, you don't constantly see them, the worry, the pain on their faces. Papa's been rifling through the newspapers every single day with a fine tooth comb, cursing you for not mentioning your plans properly."

"I told you why I can't do that!" Joseph snapped, "Please don't ask me to explain again, I can't talk about it!"

Georgina pursed her lips in silent fustration. To calm herself, she busied herself in fiddling with the ribbons on her new hat, "Amelia's been enquiring about you." She said quietly.

Joseph's head snapped up from his hands, "She – she has?"

"Yes. We've been keeping a regular correspondence. She asks about you a lot Joe."

"Is – is she all right?" Joseph asked as casually as he could.

"She's an ambulance woman." Georgina said in a cool voice, trying to conceal a smile, "She asked me if I wanted to join her up there in London but I said no. I'm needed here, to help out when the evacuees come."

"I see." Joseph rubbed his hands awkwardly, "So what did Amelia say about me?"

"She just asked how you're doing. I told her everything you told me in your letters." Georgina glimpsed at her brother through amused eyes, saying gently, "If you want to write to her yourself Joe, I think she'd welcome it."

Joseph glowered at her severely, "Now don't you start with that! Georgina you know full well why I can't -"

"Don't make such feeble excuses!" Georgina interrupted with a thin smile, "Hasn't the war taught you anything? If you still love her then for goodness sake seize the chance while you still can!" She flicked her cerulean eyes to her parents who were sat side by side, together and happy for the first time in many months. "Before someone else does."

Joseph swallowed, completely taken off guard by his sister's strict tone. "But – I can't just walk back into her life after everything I've said, can I? Can I?" He asked helplessly.

"That all depends on how much you want to make this work." Georgina muttered. "And stick with your decision this time."

Joseph smiled sensitively. "You know back- there… in the front. So many lads have pictures of their sweethearts. They asked me if I had one and I said no – but – whenever I was in any kind of trouble – Amelia was always included in my montage of memories. Apart from my family, she meant – means everything to me."

"Well that's understandable," Georgina responded quietly, "We've known each other for years! You would've been married if -"

"If I hadn't been so stupid as to let her go!" Joseph growled, "She must hate me now."

"Oh no she doesn't Joe!" Georgina said quickly, "She's ever so worried about you. She thinks you're so brave for fighting for our country. I can promise you she does not hate you!"

Joseph's lips started to tremble. "I don't know, maybe she should. I hate myself sometimes. You see what's out there – it's nothing like what they say in the papers Georgina. On the contrary it's far worse." He gazed around the library in disbelief, "Sometimes - I wish I had never come back home for fear of seeing you all again. One goodbye was enough but…"

Georgina who had been listening intently, released a long breath and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "Oh Joseph." She grasped his hand, "You don't have to talk about it if you don't feel comfortable."

He smiled at her gratefully, squeezing her hand back in response.

Joseph lapsed into thoughtful silence, watching his family laughing and joking together. "So," He started enthusiastically, breaking the tension lingering between them, "Have you heard from the rest of the family lately? Aunt Edith, Aunt Sybil?"

Georgina's eyes grew small and her lips thinned. "Actually Joseph – I met Cousin Tommy in London."

Joseph's composure twitched tightly. "What? When?"

"Sometime last week," Georgina said in a voice above a whisper, "He told me he was there on war business but something seemed odd about the whole meeting Joe. He strictly didn't want me telling anyone he'd seen me and he seemed so jittery."

The colour flooded from Joseph's face. "Did he?"

"Also, he told me Uncle Tom threw him out of the house," Georgina added, "So Edward thinks he's just moved to London and is embarrassed of his living conditions. But I know there's more to it than that."

Joseph shrugged half-heartedly, "Maybe."

* * *

><p>Matthew cleared the rest of the stray papers off the floor and dropped them into the bin. He breathed a sigh of elation. The day couldn't have been more perfect. His eldest son was home for Christmas and all was well in the Grantham household. He didn't dare venture his thoughts past new year when Joseph would have to leave again. That was something he forbade himself to do, for his wife and children's sake. Already he had accepted the horrific fact that he was not a soldier anymore but instead a soldier's father and he now lived, breathed and slept with uncertainty.<p>

The door quietly creaked open as Joseph peeked his head through. "Papa?"

Matthew whipped around, "Joe!" He smiled warmly, beckoning him in. "We haven't had much of a chance to talk since you've been back, everyone's been clawing for your attention, especially your Mama."

Joseph nodded wearily, "Yes I know. She hasn't showered be with so much attention since the day I got accepted into Cambridge and even then I never received a five tier cake!"

"Well it was your birthday celebration that you missed," Matthew said sincerely. "So tell me what brings you here."

"I heard from Edward that you turned down the opportunity to be made General." Joseph said in incredulity, "Tell me he's fibbing?"

"He's not I'm afraid." Matthew said bashfully.

Joseph's jaw dropped. "Papa! Why? You would've been fantastic!"

"Yes – but – it's complicated Joe." Matthew said in a tight voice, "And anyway I never carried on in the army so I wouldn't know where to begin! Besides, there's a secret operation taking place in Crawley House, courtesy of the army, in a few months which I'm going to oversee so I'm needed here for that."

"Really, I didn't know that! What kind of a secret operation?" Joseph asked, intrigued.

"This doesn't leave this room, all right." Matthew said warningly.

Joseph shook his head, holding up his palm, "Soldier's promise. My lips are sealed."

"It's a code deciphering operation." Matthew replied with a hint of excitement in his voice, "I was contacted shortly after I turned down the General post. The army need country houses as a base, you know away from the conspicuousness of the city. So, I'm renting Crawley House to the war ministry at a reasonable rate."

"Wow! I'm impressed." Joseph gasped, "But Granny can't be too pleased about all these strangers setting up dangerous operations in her house, attracting all sorts of potential danger in their wake."

"Well I'm moving her and the remaining servants out of there and into the Abbey." Matthew grimaced. "This house is going to be running amok with children soon anyway once the evacuees invade so I need all the help I can get."

"And I thought the front was the only place where the action was." Joseph mumbled to himself. "So - that must be hard for you and Mama too. To be in charge of the evacuation in this village and the code deciphering operation."

"I'll be overlooking the code deciphering operation, your mother, grandmothers and sisters can hold the fort here. I know Benji's excited to have children his own age to play with. We'll try to keep things as normal as possible for the children and the townspeople. Remember, no one must know what's going on in Crawley House. That's the point of using the country house in the first place. As far as you're concerned, they're invisible." Matthew said with firmness. He sighed, abruptly changing the subject. "So tell me son, what's it like to be back home at last?"

"It feels like a dream." Joseph answered softly. "I mean – I've grown up in this house but it feels so new. To sit down and eat proper food and celebrate the birthday I never had. And tonight I actually look forward to reminding myself of what a proper good night's sleep is like!"

Matthew smiled thinly. His son reminded him so much of himself it was scary. "I remember those exact feelings as if it were yesterday."

"I know." Joseph said quietly, sitting down on the sofa gently, "I never could understand why you never told me or Edward all the details about what you did in the last war. It seemed like a story. I swear I never thought in a million years that I would also be fighting in a war. I thought it was to go to University, study politics, and become an MP like you. Not a soldier."

Instinctively, Matthew hand reached for his crystal decanter of scotch and popped the lid off, tipping the dark russet liquid into two glasses. He pushed one into his son's hand.

"Get that down you Joe." He urged, downing his own drink and gasping with relish. "It helps, trust me."

"Is that right?" Joseph asked with a small smirk, "And how many have you drunk in the past three months?"

"Enough," Matthew answered seriously, pouring himself another small measure.

Joseph chuckled. "Me too. Some of the lads keep scotch or brandy in their flask, I tell you it really does warm you up on a cold night."

"That it does," Matthew replied hoarsely, knocking back his second glass and enjoying the burning liquid trickling down his throat.

"Some of the medics even use it instead of morphine!" Joseph exclaimed with emphasis, "I have to tell Edward that!"

"And have you – have you ever needed…?" Matthew started in a voice glazed with detachment.

"Oh, I had some morphine about a month ago, when my elbow got grazed." Joseph absently caressed the lightly bandaged wound on the hinge of his arm, oblivious to his father's heavy sigh of relief mingled with despair. "It was a minor injury though but still...it's always that 'what if,' you know?"

Matthew gripped his glass with a quivering hand. "Yes. Of course I know. I just prayed you never would."

Joseph shrugged. "Part of being a soldier isn't it? What if?"

It took most of his strength for Matthew to turn around and face his son with a neutral expression plastered on his face. He wanted to say something comforting, something meaningful but the words just couldn't form themselves together.

"I'm so happy I can talk to you about it Papa," Joseph breathed with reprieve, promptly making Matthew feel even worse about his incompetence to say anything comforting. "You're the only one who can understand what I'm going through."

"I suppose." Matthew replied in just a mere whisper, "But it seems so long ago. I now feel like an outsider looking in."

"But you're not!" Joseph protested. "You've been through a war and made it through alive!"

Matthew winced but quickly recovered, "Yes – but Joe you do know that just because you're a Captain - you're not invincible." He said firmly, looking his son squarely in the eye.

Joseph shifted back uncomfortably, "I know that – but – to be honest Papa I'd much rather be dead than injured."

"Joseph!" Matthew snapped. He didn't mean to sound so harsh, but to hear his son talking like that, made Matthew's blood simmer and his own personal trauma of war, all those years ago came racing to the forefront of his mind.

_Probable spinal damage._

"I don't mean any disrespect!" Joseph said swiftly, sensing he'd crossed a sore mark. "But I'm trying to explain that my biggest fear isn't death like everyone thinks. That's the easy part." Matthew wished he could just lock his ears. He turned back to the window and watched the flitting flakes intermingle with his forlorn reflection. Joseph ran his finger along the side of his crystal scotch glass, muttering, "The pain I felt last month on my elbow must be nothing in comparison to the extreme. It's getting my arm or my leg blown off or being blown open – my insides spewed all over the place, you know that's what happened to my friend Frank Harrow, he was just about to retreat and was seconds away from…"

Joseph's voice grew distant in Matthew's ears until it became a faint ringing sound. He continued to ramble animatedly about his experiences and his stories while Matthew stood rigidly by the window with his back to his son, watching his vivacious reflection through the dark window pane. Beads of sweat started to trickle down his face as Joseph recited every single movement in graphic and active detail. It was too close to home, Matthew thought, feeling a stab of disgust at himself. What kind of a father was he if he couldn't even listen to his own son? For months now he had just wished he could have this moment with Joseph, father and son together, for just one minute and now he had it, he wanted to run away from him! What did that say about him as a father? As a man?

"Papa? Papa?" Joseph asked uncertainly, breaking through Matthew's inner voice argument. "I'm sorry. Am I talking too much?"

"No!" Matthew responded hastily, "No, no, no! Don't be silly. I'd – love to hear your stories Joe." He ignored the guilty plunge at the bottoms of his stomach. "I suppose it's just been such a ni –a long day. And I'm tired."

"And you don't want me to end it by talking about war." Joseph said with a small smirk, catching the Freudian slip. "All right, all right." He stood up with a broad smile, "I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed for a change."

"That's good!" Matthew replied enthusiastically, relieved at the light hearted conversation, "Tomorrow we're going to pay an obligatory visit to your Aunt Rosamund. Your grandmother feels guilty for not insisting she spend Christmas here, so we're going to see her tomorrow."

"In London?" Joseph asked timidly.

Matthew blanched at his son's sudden reaction. "Well – yes. Because she refuses to move down from there… what's wrong?"

Joseph fidgeted with his sleeve, a habit he always did whenever he was nervous. Matthew's eyes narrowed.

"Joseph?" He asked sternly, "What's wrong?"

"Papa, I think – I have to tell you something important." Joseph said in a voice laced with apprehension. "And I need your help."

Matthew swallowed over the tight knot in his throat. He tried not to show his anxiety. "All right," He said in a thin voice, "Sit back down son, let's talk."

Matthew and Joseph sat down opposite each other on the lush velvet sofas, both looking as nervous as each other. Joseph didn't know how to begin. He just rubbed his damp hands together, trying to piece together everything he was going to say. Matthew watched him patiently.

Joseph took a deep breath, " I actually want to you to talk about Tommy."

"Tommy?" Matthew echoed quickly, "What about him?"

Joseph licked his lips, his stomach boiling with guilt. Should he betray Tommy's trust or should he reveal everything he knew? He might be protecting his cousin from something dangerous or just snitching for no reason.

"Joseph?" Matthew prompted indignantly, "What about Tommy?"

His father's tone snapped Joseph back to his senses, forcing him up immediately, "Never mind, forget I even said anything -" He tried to move around the sofa but Matthew was up in a flash, grabbing his son's arm and forcing him back down.

"Oh no!" Matthew said with a cautioning edge to his voice, his eyes glistening dangerously. "If you know something about Tommy you need to tell me now Joseph, it's of vital importance. You know Georgina met him while she was in London and -"

"I know, I know!" Joseph buried his head in his hands, "She told me. But I didn't tell her that…" Joseph looked up at his father, his face etched with shame, "That I already met him myself."

"You did what?" Matthew whispered in shock, his knees sinking unconsciously to the ledge of the sofa. "When?"

"When I was here last – on leave," Joseph answered slightly guiltily. "About a week before my leave he wrote to me asking to meet him in London. And I did."

Matthew leaned closer and dropped his voice to a low growl, "So you made time to see Tommy but you couldn't manage at least a day up here to see us? I thought you were staying with Jacob's family in Croydon?"

"I was!" Joseph replied defensively, "And I had completely forgotten about Tommy's request to meet him but he called me at Jacob's house from a payphone and reminded me of my promise. So I made a quick trip to London on my last day of leave so I could see what he was so desperate to talk to me about"

"He actually called you at Jacob's house?" Matthew repeated in disbelief, "And he – he used a payphone to do it, why? And how did he know you were there?"

"Oh, apparently Aunt Sybil had heard something off Mama…?"

"Chinese whispers," Matthew sighed, rubbing his chin tiredly, "So, why didn't you tell us about meeting Tommy?"

"Because I promised him I wouldn't say anything," Joseph replied with simplicity.

Matthew shook his head. "All right – you children and your secrets, so what did he want?"

"Well, I met him in his room, he's staying in a boarding house in Stepney. I thought he was desperate to catch up with me or share some stories… but he asked me all about my transfer in the second division."

"What's wrong with that?" Matthew asked, missing the confusion in his son's voice.

Joseph laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, "It actually felt more like an interrogation than a conversation. I didn't know where to look!"

"Well what sort of questions did he ask you to make it sound like he was interrogating you?" Matthew asked, stupefied.

"He asked me why they offered me the transfer, I told him that there was a shortage of men in the army and I had the experience so I accepted it. Then as if he didn't believe me, he went on asking me if the RAF wasn't treating me right. I told him everything I told you in that letter I wrote to Georgina, I felt that I had to join the second division." Joseph opened his palms wide with emphasis, "Papa all my decisions were purely moral based. But I could tell that Tommy didn't believe me."

Matthew bit his lip in contemplating silence before saying eventually, "No you're right there's definitely something wrong in all this – something I can't put my finger on."

Joseph nodded slowly, "Well I was thinking about going up to London before New Year anyway, to see him… and maybe Amelia." He added shyly, "I heard from Georgina that she's working as an ambulance woman now – so…"

A smile graced Matthew's lips. "Good. That's the right thing to do. Tomorrow's going to be very eventful indeed."

"Can you come with me to see Tommy?" Joseph asked nervously.

"Of course!" Matthew replied indignantly, "But first I need to tell your mother."

Joseph's face quickly fell, "But Papa -!"

Matthew held up his hand to silence him, "No protesting Joe! I can't keep anymore secrets from your mother. Especially about Tommy."

* * *

><p>Mary sat on the side of Benjamin's bed, wrapping the covers around him, wishing she could wrap him up forever and keep him safe as only a mother could. "There we go sweetheart. Feeling warm?"<p>

"Yes!" Benjamin cheeped, his little hands struggled to free themselves and rested on top of the covers.

"It's going to be a cold night? Are you sure you don't want any more blankets?" Mary asked tenderly.

"No I'm warm. Mama?" Benjamin asked in that curious voice which always brought on a tight knot in Mary's stomach.

"Yes darling." Mary answered with a thin smile.

"Edward said we're going up to London tomorrow?" He said fearfully, "I thought Papa said it wasn't safe in London."

"Oh we're just going up for the day to visit Aunt Rosamund," Mary answered gently, "It'll be a short, quick stop. We'll say hello, Merry Christmas, goodbye and then we're coming straight back home."

"Aunt Rosamund? But she's mad!"

Mary bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at the wide blue eyes which stared at her from behind the blankets. "No darling. She's not mad, she's just old."

"Old! Old!" Benjamin exclaimed loudly with a wrinkled nose, "But Granny and Grandmama are old and they're not mad! And you and Papa are old and you're not mad!"

"Ooh you cheeky little monkey!" Mary laughed, tickling her youngest son who squealed, writhing under the blankets for safety.

"What's going on in here?" Matthew stepped into the room, surveying the scene in amusement.

"Mama's tickling me Papa!" Benjamin's muffled voice replied from under the covers.

"Is she?" Matthew wrestled the covers off his son, "Well… how about I tickle Mama!" Before Mary could react, Matthew promptly pounced on his wife, proceeding to tickle her.

"Matth – Matthew!" Mary yelped, chuckling, "Stop – you're going to wake the others!" She slapped him off and adjusted her hair. "Really! Sometimes I think I have six children!"

Benjamin, still giggling, sat up and rested his chin on his little hands. "Papa," He said in his babyishly sweet voice, "Tomorrow when we go up to London…"

"Yes," Matthew answered slowly, glancing knowingly at his wife. They were about to be hustled for something.

"Can we go to Hamilton's toyshop?" Benjamin asked innocently.

Matthew faked a shock gasp, "Did some very spoiled little boy not get enough presents today?"

"I just want to see the toys!" Benjamin counteracted smartly, bouncing up and down in anticipation. "I promise I won't want anything!"

Mary raised her brow, "Hmm, there's a promise already broken."

"Pleeease Papa!" Benjamin begged, instinctively turning to the more softer parent.

Matthew pretended to think about it. "We'll visit Hamilton's toyshop only if you go to bed right now."

Benjamin immediately scrambled under the covers and shut his eyes tightly. Mary kissed his cheek. "Goodnight my darling."

"I'm already asleep!" He hissed.

Matthew snorted. "Yes. And sleep talking!" He leaned over to give his son a small kiss goodnight.

They backed out of their son's room and shut the door quietly. Mary gleefully slipped her arms around her husband's neck. "Shall we go to bed too?" She asked coquettishly.

Matthew smiled and kissed her. "Yes," He answered coyly, "But first I must tell you something which might spoil the mood a little." He pulled her into their bedroom.

"Oh?" Mary's face tried not to show too much disappointment. "Something – not too unpleasant I hope." She sauntered to her dressing table and started to unpin her curls, all the while, keeping a firm gaze upon her husband through her vanity mirror. "Especially as today has been so wonderful. Joseph's back home and Christmas was well spent, don't you think?"

Matthew closed his eyes as he ripped the knot open on his tie. Why did it always fall on him to be the bearer of bad news? "Darling, I wanted to talk to you about London tomorrow," He replied slowly as he started to undress, "And about," He glanced at his wife's reflection, "Tommy."

Mary whipped around sharply. "Tommy?"

"Yes. You see Joseph came to me this evening and revealed that he visited Tommy in London when he was last on leave, and before you react!" Matthew added hastily as Mary opened her mouth in indignation, "I just want you to know that I already reprimanded him but it was not entirely his fault. Tommy was most insistent he pay a call to him, so Joe travelled to London from Croydon. Apparently, Tommy's living in a boarding house in Stepney. Looks like Edward was right."

"Stepney?" Mary commented disdainfully.

"Yes."

"What on earth did he want to say to Joe?" Mary asked, unable to stop the sickening feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

Matthew rubbed his face with a weary hand, "According to Joe, he wanted to discuss his recent transfer plans. In immense detail."

Mary scoffed, "Well that doesn't sound too suspicious. It's merely soldiers talk is it not? I'm sure you would've loved to share your progressions with your comrades or male cousins, had you any."

"Hardly," Matthew replied impatiently, "Besides that's not the point. Joseph said it sounded more like an interrogation."

"So what do you think that meant?" Mary asked, sinking further into the depths of confusion.

"I'm not sure." Matthew said in a puzzled voice. He perched on the edge of his bed, "But tomorrow I intend to find out. Joseph and I will pay a call to him whilst you and the girls, and Benji visit your Aunt Rosamund. I suspect Edward will want to come with us too, it won't be fair to leave him behind. I'm sure your Aunt won't miss us."

"No she won't." Mary mumbled,"She doesn't miss anyone much." A wan smile twitched her cheek as she crawled behind her husband and rested her chin on his shoulder, whispering in his ear, "Which would make it much easier to get away early. Then of course the girls, Benji and I can come and visit Tommy with you." Matthew quickly turned to face her, everything about his countenance screamed protestation but Mary promptly clapped her hand over his mouth, staring into his cerulean eyes. "I am going with you and that's it."

"Mary, I want you and the girls and Benji to be safe!" Matthew said desperately, grasping her hands in his.

"We'll be safe so long as we're all together. As a family." Mary said in reassurance, lacing her fingers through his and pressing their palms together. Matthew shook his head vehemently, pressing a firm kiss to his wife's hand.

"Anything can happen in London Mary, at any time. Should there be an attack tomorrow, your Aunt's house has the proper facilities for such an occurrence and I'll take comfort in knowing my beloved wife, my darling girls and my little boy will be there! Safe."

"And what about my beloved husband and darling boys Matthew?" Mary contradicted airily, stroking his face tenderly. "Can I take comfort in knowing you'll all be safe in – Stepney!"

"We are soldiers my love." Matthew replied with a smirk and another swift kiss, "We can take care of ourselves. A quick dash to the nearest tube station and we'll be as safe as houses."

Mary just raised her eyebrow sceptically. "If that's your answer to comfort me then clearly twenty years of marriage has taught you nothing." She untangled her fingers from his and slid in between the sheets, "I'm coming with you."

"Mary -"

"I am coming with you!" She insisted with finality.

Matthew fell back against the pillows feeling defeated. Oh, if twenty years of marriage had taught him anything, it was that Lady Mary Crawley could not be dissuaded. Especially when it came to her family.

* * *

><p>Joseph switched off the lights and crawled in between the plush sheets of his bed, sighing in ecstasy as the plump pillows cushioned his delicate head. It felt like he were living in a dream world. Sleeping in his usual, familiar bed seemed so different from the uncomfortable makeshifts he was used to over the past three months. He had just emerged after having a two hour soak in the bathtub. He might've even fallen asleep for a few minutes, he was that content.<p>

Oh he knew soldiers all over the world didn't have the luxury of spending Christmas night in the warmth and safety of their own bed, but Joseph ignored the guilt creeping into his stomach at such thoughts. He was physically exhausted after three months of constant travelling, fighting and light sleeping, now he was finally home and under the protection of his parents.

Joseph touched the plaster at the base of his arm which shielded the wound he recieved while trying to protect his fellow soldier last month. He had felt the bullet graze his elbow and was too much in shock to feel the searing pain or comprehend the morsel of flesh hanging off his arm by a slither of skin, exposing his pearly white bone. A shudder trickled down his spine at the memory. He turned over in his bed, rubbing his face in exhaustion. Why couldn't he sleep? He knew he would be seeing his cousin tomorrow and a part of him dreaded the visit. Something was wrong with Tommy. He wasn't one for revealing his feelings but Joseph knew his father would wring the truth out of him if what was the last thing he did.

As sleep finally washed over him, his last thought was of his friends and how they were faring on this cold, dark, Christmas night, millions of miles away while he was taking advantage of the comfort of his home. In that moment, Joseph knew he had changed. He wasn't the same, terrified boy that had left here three months ago without a clue in the world. He was a much braver man who would be going back into hell to fight to the death for his country.

* * *

><p><em>To Be Continued...<em>


	14. Today

**Author's Note:**Hey guys thanks for all the support and reviews, sooo sorry for the delay in updating but I've been writing, re-writing and changing things around in this chapter and decided to split in into two parts because I wanted this one to be a build up and then the next one will be actually dealing with Tommy. So this is part 1 which deals with Rosamund and some more of her venomous gossip and what do you think is wrong with Rebecca? ;)

Please tell me what you think!

Enjoy! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14 – Today<strong>

**Boxing Day - Part 1**

_**December 26th 1939**_

The Crawley family sat nestled in their own compartment in the train which trundled them off to the big city. Benjamin and Rebecca were tucked away in the corner playing snap whilst Georgina, Edward and Joseph chattered quietly to each other. Matthew poured over today's newspaper with a small crease between his brows as his eyes travelled further and further down the page. Mary was reading a letter from Edith with a look of incredulity embedded on her face.

Suddenly she gasped, "Oh I don't believe it!"

Matthew jumped in alarm, "What? What's happened?"

Mary looked up at her family in amusement, "Edith's expecting her fifth child, sometime in July!"

"That's wonderful!" Georgina exclaimed in delight, "We're to have another little cousin!"

"Well that's – very surprising." Joseph said with a suppressed grin.

"And she also says that she hopes it's a boy this time!" Mary laughed as she continued reading the letter.

"Well after four daughters that's understandable," Matthew said with a smirk.

"Yes I suppose so." Mary said in a chilly voice, her dark eyes narrowing as she flipped the slip of paper over.

"What's wrong now?" Matthew asked in agitation.

Mary sucked in her breath, "She says 'now we have the same number of children and who knows, maybe I shall have more.' That's her attempt at a subtle way of saying she's going to have more children than me!"

"I'm sure it was a joke Mama," Joseph said jadedly.

"I don't think so!" Mary brandished the letter under her son's nose, "You don't know your Aunt Edith like I do! This is what she does! She means to deliberately have a dig at me! That's what she's like!"

"Oh Mary for heaven sake!" Matthew chided, exchanging an exasperated glance with his children. "How long is this petty competitiveness going to last? And what kind of an example are you setting for our children might I add?"

"I don't make it a competition!" Mary protested, "She does!"

Matthew quirked his brow. "Just her? Are you sure about that?"

Mary relented, blushing, "Well – maybe I compete a little but it's not my fault if she chooses to see things that way! Just – just because I announced Edward's upcoming birth the day after Eleanor was born, doesn't mean I was trying to upstage her. And announcing Benjamin's upcoming birth on Suzanne's sixth birthday… doesn't mean I'm turning it into a competition! She does!"

"Well, you learn something every day. I feel so thrilled to know I'm the product of sibling rivalry!" Edward stated with sarcastic endearment. "There's me spending nearly sixteen years of my life thinking I was born from love!"

Matthew chose to ignore him. "So Mary what are you going to do now?"

"Well I can tell you what I'm not going to do and I'm not going to sink to her level." Mary replied with dignity. She smoothed her skirt primly, "I'm merely going to congratulate her and be done with it."

"What else does Aunt Edith say Mama?" Georgina asked swiftly.

"Oh," Mary absently checked the letter, "She says that Virginia is very comfortable in college and is spending her free time training as nurse… Eleanor and Susanne are enjoying their studies and little Louisa has just turned nine!"

"Nine!" Georgina squealed, "Oh bless her! I can remember when they came here last summer and she followed me about everywhere like a little puppy!" She chuckled fondly at the memory. "My time does fly!"

"Yes it does." Matthew said wistfully as he watched his own children.

Mary nodded and folded the letter up, "I mean I still can't believe Virginia's in college, it just seems like yesterday she…." Mary peered inside the envelope, "What – is this?" She pulled out several newspaper cuttings from every single New York paper which announced the birth of Lady Edith and Peter Rockefeller's fifth child. Mary gave a hollow laugh. "She's practically thrusting the poor child into the spotlight before it's even born!"

Matthew grasped his wife's hand, saying gently, "Rise above it Mary. Rise above it. Look at your son and remember how proud you are of him. You have many things in your life to be proud of too."

Mary looked up at Joseph who smiled warmly at her. He was dressed in his soldier attire for his trip up to London despite the teasing he received from Edward who claimed he was just showing off. Mary returned the smile, stuffing the letter and newspaper clippings back into the envelope, determined not to let anything or anyone get to her. Then she remembered that she was visiting Aunt Rosamund and her mood deepened.

Once the train pulled into St Pancras, Matthew and Mary ushered their children off the train when Benjamin wailed that he'd left his toy soldiers in the compartment. Matthew rushed back to fetch it but when he joined his family, Rebecca shrieked that she had left her book there too.

"Right anyone else left anything behind?" Matthew almost yelled in sheer frustration after Georgina darted back for her gloves once he'd returned with the book.

Joseph shook his head smugly. "Nope. I remembered everything."

"Where's your hat Joe?" Edward asked with a small smirk.

"Why it's right here on my…." Joseph dashed back inside the train as quick as lightening.

Once they were finally settled enough, they clung together as the tides of people scurrying towards the train built up stronger and stronger.

"Is there something going on?" Edward asked suspiciously.

"I'm sure it's just the bank holiday crowd!" Mary shouted over the noise, "We need to find a taxi. Now!"

"And how are we going to do that?" Edward asked in disbelief.

"Leave it to me!" Joseph shouted.

Wearing the uniform proved to be a success for Joseph as it commanded him respect from every eye who saw him in it, automatically parting to let him and his family march through, nodding their heads in acknowledgement of their respect. They met several other soldiers loitering at the station who were travelling in or out of London, once they crossed paths with Joseph each would tip their hand in a short salute. Benjamin clung to his father's hand whilst being pulled through the tidal wave of people, watching all the interactions with his older brother in awe.

Joseph easily managed to flag down a taxi given his uniform. He proudly opened the door for his family to slide inside, nodding at a disgruntled Edward in a self-satisfactory manner.

"So how long to we have to stay at Aunt Rosamund's house for?" Rebecca asked as their taxi scuttled away from the station.

"We're just popping in for a quick visit." Mary replied curtly with a glance at her husband.

"Then what's the point in dragging us all here?" Edward grumbled, unaware of the unexpected call on Tommy.

"Because it's Christmas and Rosamund is by herself." Mary answered evenly.

"Well more's the pity!"

"Oh do hush Ed!" Georgina snapped. "You're behaving grossly childish!"

"It's not like you had anything better to do Edward," Matthew said austerely.

"I could be back at home revising!" Edward responded smartly.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Mary sighed, "We're her only family and she wants to see all of us."

Edward scoffed, "I doubt it! She doesn't even like me!"

"Her too?" Joseph muttered sarcastically.

"It's not that she doesn't like you Ed, she feels you're irresponsible," Mary said in reassurance, then mumbling, "I can't really blame her but there you go."

"I mean she does know I'm going off to war as a medic doesn't she?" Edward asked Georgina openly. "You know, risking my life while saving others?" Joseph and Matthew strongly resisted the urge to roll their eyes.

"Yes," Georgina answered bitterly. "She knows all that but she doesn't care."

Edward slumped back in his seat with an irritated frown, watching the idle traffic outside.

"London looks so sad," Benjamin piped up, his little hand pressed against the cool glass as he gazed forlornly out of the window. "All the buildings are being hidden by those brown sacks."

"They're called sandbags Benji and they're used for protection." Joseph explained.

"Against the bombs?"

Joseph nodded, his eyes clouding.

* * *

><p>Lunch at Rosamund's was a very awkward and dismal affair. Georgina poked the chicken pie on her plate in distaste. The meat smelled quite off and the crust was charred and burnt. She hesitated to put it anywhere near her mouth. Benjamin sat back in his chair, arms crossed and grumpily staring at his food without touching it.<p>

"Edward aren't you going to eat anything?" Rosamund asked him sharply.

"I'm Benjamin!" He protested angrily.

"I don't care," Rosamund counteracted airily. "When you're given food on your plate you must eat it all. Especially in these circumstances when food is running out."

"But it's all pink and tastes funny!" Benjamin commented loudly.

"Benji!" Mary interjected calmly, "Just try a mouthful. Please." She smiled at her youngest son apologetically as he slowly picked up his fork, scooped a morsel of pie onto it and slipped it into his mouth, chewing mechanically and swallowing with disgust. Mary felt her heart clench with guilt as her youngest son glared at her with a look of such misery, she felt like the worst mother in the world.

"Good boy." Matthew said sincerely, unable to bear himself for inadvertently forcing his children, especially Joseph to eat this muck. It was a form of torture.

"Now tell me what's going on in Downton?" Rosamund asked Matthew. "How is everyone? Cora? Your mother?"

"Oh – oh er – Mama and Cousin Cora are fine," Matthew said in distraction as his eyes caught Edward surreptitiously emptying Benjamin's food into his napkin and wrapping it up under the table. "Just- just busy that's all."

"Busy doing what?"

"Well, Cousin Cora is running a charity in Ripon which helps the women who have lost their husbands and sons to war and Mama is working in various hospitals up here in London."

Rosamund rolled her eyes, "Isobel I can expect to play the good Samaritan but Cora…"

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Georgina exclaimed coldly, "Even women need to do their part for the war."

"That's all very well but like I told you there's a time and a place for these thi -" Rosamund suddenly broke into another coughing fit, choking into her handkerchief while her family looked on, startled and a little embarrassed.

"Aunt Rosamund have you seen a doctor?" Edward asked, finally throwing down his fork.

"Oh don't be ridiculous Joseph I don't need one!" Rosamund insisted, coughing yet some more, "It's just a winter cold that's all."

"First of all, I'm Edward, second of all that cough sounds more than just a winter cold and third, you might have early stages of pneumonia." Edward retorted.

Rosamund just waved her hand aside, "I don't need to be told about my health from some child thank you very much!"

"I was only trying to be helpful," Edward said with dislike, "I know what I'm talking about. I'm training to be a -"

"Oh yes, yes Georgina told me all about your little job in the war," Rosamund said dismissively, waving her fan in front of her face in exasperation, "Oh I feel so ill, where's Fulton and that wine?"

Edward rounded on his father for support.

"Cousin Rosamund," Matthew said quickly, "Edward's role in the war is much more than just a little job."

"Pish posh it's all the same to me." Rosamund replied indifferently, turning to Mary, "Now have you heard anything from your sisters dear."

"Well…" Mary started hastily, trying not to draw too much attention to her daughters who were also emptying their plates into their napkins. "As it happens I received a letter from Edith today. She's expecting another child. And she hopes it will be a boy."

Rosamund's face fell. "Oh that girl is too silly! Why would you want boys for?" She asked blatantly ignoring the four seated with her at the table.

"I don't see anything wrong in boys Aunt Rosamund." Rebecca piped up quietly.

Rosamund snorted, "Well Edith has no clue! A boy! Really! Girls are the right thing, she must have another girl."

"Oh well surely boys aren't all that bad Cousin Rosamund," Matthew said with a wink at Benjamin.

"Aren't they?" Rosamund gave a tinkling laugh. She shot a glance at Edward, "Boys succumb easily to corruption." Edward opened his mouth in indignation; Rosmaund turned her gaze to Joseph. "Boys get killed in wars." Joseph flushed a deep shade of scarlet as she turned her grey eyes onto the youngest Crawley. "And boys are messy and spoiled at the worst of times!" Benjamin shrunk lower in his seat, his blue eyes growing small in dejection.

Georgina and Rebecca's mouths dropped open at the sheer audacity of their Aunt's comments. Their brothers were now staring at the tablecloth in humiliation, their dignity already torn to shreds by a few choice comments.

Mary clenched her fists into her napkin, biting into her tongue. She glared at Matthew, willing him as head of the family to contradict her Aunt as she slandered their sons, but he just shook his head wearily at her, telling her to rise above it. That's all she ever seemed to do these days. Rise above it. Well maybe she'd had enough.

"Now how about dessert?" Rosamund asked gleefully as Mary was about to snap.

Joseph shot his father a desperate glance as they were supposed to be calling on the Napiers and then Tommy soon.

"Cousin Rosamund we really can't stay long," Matthew said smoothly. "We have other people to call on today."

"Who?" Rebecca asked in surprise.

"Yes, who?" Rosamund echoed, her eyes glaring at Matthew from across the table.

"We need to pay a visit to the Napiers and -" He swiftly swallowed his next word, "See how they are."

"Oh them." Rosamund said in a bland voice, shooting a furtive look at Joseph. "You know I've heard that young Amelia is very much attached to the Earl of Portland's youngest son, Henry Bentinck."

Joseph dropped his fork with a clatter. "What?" He choked. "What did you just say?"

"Joseph Crawley!" Rosamund reprimanded, "You say excuse me not 'what!' That's very vulgar, very vulgar indeed! Honestly Mary what are you teaching your children?"

"Aunt Rosamund with all due respect, my children -"

"Amelia and Bentinck?" Joseph sighed in exasperation.

"That's just gossip Joe." Georgina said emphatically, mouthing, 'Don't listen to her,' across the table at her brother. "I've been keeping in touch with Amelia and she didn't mention anything about Henry Bentinck. Not a word."

"No, well she wouldn't would she dear?" Rosamund said in a patronizing voice as if she were talking to a child. "You're Joseph's sister. Of course she wouldn't mention her new sweetheart to you. That would be highly inappropriate."

"Her – her sweetheart?" Joseph whispered, his heartbeat compressing at every word Rosamund spoke. "They're sweethearts? Really? Well, I didn't know that." He roughly began cutting up his pie, "There's me thinking Henry and I were friends. I thought he could've at least respected me enough to tell me."

"I'm sure his father would've mentioned something to me if it were true." Matthew said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. Joseph didn't seem to hear his father. He just continued to drown in despair at Rosmaund's words.

Mary thought her heart would tear at the devastated look etched upon her eldest son's face. Her hand itched to reach across the table and slap her Aunt.

"I didn't know they were sweethearts either." Rebecca piped up timidly. She leaned back in her seat feeling utterly defeated, like the energy had been punctured from her gut. Unbeknownst to everyone, she had thought herself in love with Henry Bentinck, despite him being seven years older than her. Now she felt positively humiliated with herself. How foolish and stupid she must've looked to Henry now. Why would he even glance her way when there were so many beautiful girls like Georgina and Amelia flitting around? She was suddenly struck by a sharp pain stabbing across her abdomen. She gasped and doubled up, her head spinning.

"Well of course they are, all of London society knows." Rosamund said in a sickly sweet voice. "I'm surprised you didn't Joseph."

Rebecca gritted her teeth, clutching her stomach as the pain grew so intense. What was happening to her?

"Well I have been rather busy," Joseph replied waspishly. "So – how did this – how did they – how is…?"

"How did this come to be you ask? Well apparently they met last month at the Villier's dinner -"

"It's not true Joseph!" Georgina interrupted fiercely, "She wrote about the Villier's dinner and she talked about everyone she met there and they weren't Henry Bentinck! Don't listen to gossip. Go find Amelia and ask her yourself."

"You know I think I might just do that," Joseph responded with acidity laced within his voice. He knew it wasn't Georgina's fault but he couldn't help being angry at her. If she had just paid more attention to Amelia's letters rather than reading what she wanted to read then maybe she could've warned him about Henry Bentinck. Joseph's fist curled on top of the crisp tablecloth. God, he wished he could pummel his fist into Bentinck's smug, pretty face.

* * *

><p>"I don't want to visit the Napiers." Joseph grumbled from the backseat of the taxi.<p>

"Joe you know it would be terribly impolite to come to London and not call upon our oldest and dearest friends." Mary said patiently. "And besides, if this is about what Aunt Rosamund said, you must learn to just ignore it."

"But I can't!" Joseph didn't mean to whine but it came out that way. "She has a way of getting inside your mind and toying with it until you have no choice but to believe her gossip."

"Then don't." Georgina said calmly.

"Why didn't you tell me about Henry Bentinck?" Joseph shot out at her.

"Because there was nothing to tell!" Georgina answered back angrily, "She never mentioned a single word to me about it in her letters!"

"Well she wouldn't would she?" Joseph countered. "You're my sister, it would deem inappropriate! Aunt Rosamund was right! God, I hate saying that!"

"I'm sure they're just friends," Matthew said soothingly.

"But friendship will develop into something more!" Joseph replied with worry.

"I don't understand why you're so upset," Rebecca interjected harshly, "You're the one who ended the arrangement between you two. Amelia's at perfect liberty to be friends with whoever she pleases."

"Nobody asked your opinion!" Edward snapped. Rebecca elbowed him. Hard.

"Edward don't be rude to your sister!" Mary scolded. "Personally I agree with her – only because," She added swiftly as Joseph opened his mouth to protest, "It's dear Amelia we're talking about here and she's at perfect liberty to be friends with whoever she chooses. It's sad, yes, but that's the situation."

"It's all my fault." Joseph whispered, his head falling into his hands.

Matthew grasped his son's shoulder, "No it's mine." He cast a glance at his wife, "I should've stopped you when I knew you were making a mistake. But that's the interesting thing about mistakes Joe, we can learn from them. Now, if you're not feeling up to seeing Amelia then how about we visit that cousin of yours?"

Rebecca didn't know how long she could put it off. She had a tiny inkling in the back of her mind at what it could be but it can't happen now, not now they're out. She gasped as another streak of pain struck her gut, she released a soft groan but no one seemed to hear her. They were all too busy discussing Tommy.

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later they found themselves trudging down a narrow, cobbled street towards a small crumbling building in East London, the lodging house which housed Tommy Branson.<p>

"This is definitely his lodgings," Joseph said as he checked the slip of paper in his hand. "This is where I visited him."

"What lovely accomodation." Edward said with sincerity, "I can see why he'd want to stay here instead of at Downton."

"For once do you think you can try and be a bit compliant?" Matthew asked his son in exhaustion. "If not for your own sake then for your cousin's? You don't know what he's done to get himself in this situation Ed."

Mary pressed her handkerchief to her nose, pulling Benjamin and her daughters closer to her as a few loitering men leered at them from the corner of the street. "Girls," She whispered fiercely, "Don't make eye contact with them!"

The thick smog was swirling around them rapidly, clogging inside poor Benjamin who started to choke. He hated it in London and wanted to go back to his home in the nice countryside. He couldn't understand what his family were doing here. Tommy wouldn't be living here. He was a hero and heroes lived in nice places didn't they?

"I don't like it here Mama!" He wailed, "Can we go home now?"

"We're here to visit Cousin Tommy Benji. Though what he's doing living here, God only knows." Mary sniffed once they approached the front door.

Matthew rapped three times on the door. It creaked open. A small dirty face peered through the crack. Benjamin clutched on tighter to his mother's hand at the sight of the man. He had a thin, sallow face and bright orange hair which reminded him forcibly of a clown he used to detest.

"All right?" The man rasped. "Wha' can I do fer ya?"

"Oh hello." Matthew said as politely as he could, "I was wondering if you could tell me if – if Thomas, Tommy Branson is still here?"

"Mr Branson just arrived abou' ten minutes ago - sir." The man croaked. "Are you here for the usual business?"

Matthew frowned. "Usual business?"

The man quickly faltered, "I – I mean are you his usual guests like?"

"We're his family." Matthew answered coolly.

"Family!" The man laughed, "Tha's the firs' I ever eard' of Tom havin' a family that want to see him!"

"What are you talking about? I was here last month and I'm his cousin!" Joseph interjected sharply.

"Oh you was were ya?" The man growled, "Well in that case you shoulda' signed the guestbook then! Cousin!"

"Guestbook?" Edward scoffed, eyeing the decrepit buliding.

"What - what guestbook?" Joseph asked carelessly.

"The guestbook I make people sign so I can keep record of who shows up an who don't!" The man replied with self-satisfaction. "This ain't no doss house ya know! I run a respectable lodging house ere!"

"I'm sure you do." Edward mumbled under his breath.

"Could we see Tommy please." Matthew requested firmly.

"Is he expectin' ya?" The man asked suspiciously.

"No, we were in London and decided to stop by." Matthew explained evenly, flicking his eyes up to the greying sky. "And we should like to do so quickly before it gets dark. We'd prefer to be out of the city by nightfall."

"Smart finking sir. But just to clarify – Mr Branson has had no warning of ya visit?" The man asked yet again.

"No he hasn't. But is it a crime to pay a casual visit to one's nephew?" Matthew asked through gritted teeth, his patience wearing thin.

The man stepped aside and widened the gap in the fragile door to allow them access. "Nah it ain't, you have to pardon me questioning sir. You can never be too careful, specially these days. You ge' all sorts of rif raff jus' wanderin' in off the streets, beggin' us to lend em our rooms fer cheap rates, you know." He spotted Benjamin lurking behind his mother and spread a wide, toothless grin at him. Benjamin gasped in fright and hid behind his father instead.

"Well we're not rif raff." Mary said acidly.

"Nah I suppose you ain't mam." The man said with a smirk. "But yous' could be spies. German spies for all I know bout' ya!"

"Do we look like spies?" Joseph asked pointedly, indicating his uniform.

The man sarcastically tipped his hat at Joseph. "No – sir- you don't. Now you lot wanted to see Mr Branson?"

"Yes." Mary said, surveying the man with dislike.

He pointed to a narrow staircase to their right. "Keep goin up them stairs until you get to a small landin. Then you'll see annuver set o' staircase which leads to -"

"I know where his room is!" Joseph interrupted impatiently, "It's not that hard to find. Come, I'll lead the way."

The man's eyes grew small and filled with an intense surge of hatred towards Joseph. "Very well." He said in a sugary voice. "As this young man as' obviously bin ere before, he'll show ya."

Matthew turned to the man with a forced smile, trying to detatch himself from Benjamin whose hands were clamped firmly on his arm. "Thank you Mr….?"

"Sparks. Gibson Sparks but you can jus call me Jip. Evry one else does!" Sparks said with an extravagant bow at the Crawley family.

Benjamin couldn't take his growing agitation anymore. "Are you a Nazi?" He whimpered.

"Benjamin!" Matthew hissed while Edward snorted with laughter. Joseph nudged him, trying to suppress a grin himself.

"I - I don't know where he came up with that!" Mary said, flushing with embarrassment.

"Yes, I am so, so sorry!" Matthew said apologetically to Sparks who was glaring at the little boy in shock and destation. "You'll have to excuse my little boy he has no manners!"

"Benji you apologize right now." Mary commanded.

"Sorry!" Benjamin cheeped in a tone completely contrary.

"Sorry." Matthew repeated earnestly.

Sparks waved his hand dimissively, "No problem sir. He's just a child after all." He glowered down at Benjamin who shrunk back behind his father in fear.

"Well - Mr Sparks, er, Jip. Thank you." Matthew picked up his youngest son and ushered his family away from Sparks, all instincts screaming at him to get his family out of this place.

Sparks watched them disappear up the rickety staircase, snarling like a rabid dog. As soon as they were out of earshot, he spat on the floor.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	15. Tonight

Author's Note: Hey guys thanks for all the reviews! This is the second part of the chapter and deals with some - uh- girls issues. Just note that Rebecca's adolecence story is very important for later on in the coming years! ;) Anyway this chapter also deals with Tommy and Matthew's personal demons emerging to haunt him yet again! ;(

So read it and tell me what you think! Your support means everything! x

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 15 -Tonight<span>**

**Boxing Day - Part 2**

Tommy Branson balanced the withering cigarette between his lips while he prodded the rusty poker into the dancing flames, trying to keep the dying embers alive. He pulled the chair closer to the fire, rubbing his hands vigorously.

There was a sharp tap at the door.

Tommy whipped around, startled. He glanced back desperately at the decaying fire before tossing his cigarette butt into the flames and leaping out of his seat in a tether.

"One minute!" He yelled whilst grabbing the thick, banded file which was lying recklessly on his small table and hurriedly stuffing it under his creaking bed, patting it down to create the illusion that he lived in a life of 'normalcy.' So checking his reflection in the minuscule mirror, Tommy opened the door. There stood his Uncle Matthew and Aunt Mary, the Earl and Countess of Grantham and their entire noble family standing right outside his dingy little flat.

"What are you all doing here?" He asked in surprise.

The smile faded from Matthew's face. "We – we came to see you Tommy. Please can we come in?"

"Of course, of course Uncle Matthew. Come – come in, all of you." Tommy welcomed them in and then set about snatching up stray clothes which were strewn about the place, hanging off chairs, piled on the floor. "I'm sorry the place is such a mess, I don't usually have visitors."

"Really? Because the disturbing man downstairs asked us if we were the usual guests." Edward said with a frown. "So what was he talking about?"

Tommy turned to face him. "Oh – well I suppose he was just confused."

"About what?" Edward pressed.

"There are so many people that come in and out of here, it's like Piccadilly Circus!" Tommy replied with an awkward laugh. "He probably thought you were the usual lodger that's all."

Edward opened his mouth to contradict his cousin but was silenced by a sharp look from his mother.

"Look Tommy I don't want to beat around the bush," Matthew said placidly, "But we heard through the grapevine that you were living here and we needed to see how you're doing."

"If by grapevine you mean Joseph..." Joseph pursed his lips guiltily.

"We wanted to see if you're all right." Matthew said with intensity.

"I don't know what you mean Uncle Matthew, I'm fine." Tommy said casually.

"Tommy please," Joseph said wearily, glaring around the pitiful room, "Look at where you're living."

"There's nothing wrong with the way I'm living." Tommy replied curtly, "I'm a young man that's just been thrown out of my home, it's wartime, I'm a soldier on leave and I decide to spend it by myself, there's nothing wrong with that is there? I thought you of all people could understand that Joe."

Joseph glanced at his father then lowered his eyes to the floor in embarrassment.

"Why did your father throw you out Tommy?" Mary asked in concern, "Is it because you joined up?"

"Yes and no." Tommy answered with a huff, "Papa doesn't really understand me anymore Aunt Mary. Neither does Mama."

"Oh I'm sure that's not true!" Mary responded sharply, "She's worried about you Tommy!"

Tommy just shrugged dismissively, "Aren't you worried about Joseph?"

"Yes, yes I am but -"

"But you still support his decisions don't you?"

"Yes Tommy but -"

"I'm seventeen Aunt Mary." Tommy interrupted in a soft but firm voice, "I can take care of myself."

"I'm not saying you can't!" Mary replied, angry at being continually interrupted, "But it would be wrong of me not to take care of you while you're here."

"Oh I see." Tommy crossed his arms in amusement, "So you're only here out of duty to my mother is that right?"

"Don't be ridiculous of course I'm not! I'm here because I want you to come back to Downton Tommy. And stay with us during your leave." The words 'so we can keep an eye on you' were swiftly swallowed.

"Thank you Aunt Mary but I'm perfectly settled here." Tommy said in a calm voice, his eyes following Benjamin who had wandered over to his bed and was now bouncing on it.

"Is something the matter?" Matthew asked evenly, observing his nephew's sudden stiffness in posture.

"No." Tommy answered lightly, sauntering over to his bed and gently pulling Benjamin off. "Sorry Benji you can't jump on the bed, the springs are quite loose and you might hurt yourself."

"But that must be uncomfortable for you Tommy," Georgina said quickly, "Sleeping on that every night."

"It's not every day Georgie, you know that, only when I'm on leave. Otherwise I'm… currently occupied."

"So the alternative is better?" Joseph countered in disbelief. "Sleeping in barns or ditches. I'm relieved to be back home and in my own bed during the little time I have. Especially knowing what I'd have to go back to."

"But then I'd have to be under the same roof as my father won't I?" Tommy said nonchalantly, "And besides, I'm perfectly content as I am."

"A person your age shouldn't be content, especially not at a time like this," Matthew said quietly. "Now won't you come back home with us?"

Tommy shook his head. "I'm afraid you've had a wasted trip Uncle Matthew. I'm sorry." He cast a worried eye towards the small window which was caked with grime. "It's almost dark. You really should be out of here."

"Am I going to see you again before I leave?" Joseph asked quietly.

"When is that?"

"I'm due back on the seventeenth."

Tommy breathed a small sigh of relief and unintentionally said, "Oh good. Because not only is Hitler planning on invading Scandanavia soon but Germany's planning on postponing opera –invading France until the Spring at the very latest. Probably because the weather would be better for an attack. So enjoy being back at home while you can!"

Joseph and Edward's jaws dropped. They gaped at their cousin with such incredulity; neither of them could find the words to speak.

"How did you – why do you think Hitler is planning on invading Scandanavia soon?" Matthew asked in a hushed voice. "And what's all this about Germany postponing their invasion on France."

Tommy's eyes flicked towards the bed. "Just pub talk Uncle Matthew," He replied with a shrug, "Nothing else."

"It sounds quite detailed to be just pub talk." Edward said with narrowed eyes.

"I might've also read something about it." Tommy said carefully with a smirk.

"Where? In the papers? I don't recall reading anything about that!" Matthew said sharply.

"You might've missed it Uncle Matthew."

"I haven't!" Matthew protested with a glance at Joseph, "I would've remembered if I had read something like that!"

"What's going on with you Tommy?" Mary asked suspiciously.

"Nothing!" Tommy replied with irritation, "I've just learned to become much more independent now that I'm living on my own!"

Mary exchanged a worried look with her husband and said with a little more desperation sewn into her voice, "That makes us even more concerned. Oh Tommy, won't you change your mind and come back home with us? Come on, pack your things and come back now!"

Tommy shook his head with fierce determination, "No Aunt Mary I'm not – not needed down there, I must remain here!"

"But why -?"

"And now I really must insist you get out of the city before it gets dark!" Tommy interrupted his Uncle in a hasty panic, "You do not want to be caught up in an air raid, especially if it's just procedure. Those blasted things can go on all night and into the early hours of the morning! You'd never have a decent night's sleep!"

Edward promptly turned towards the door, "We're leaving now!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>7:29pm<strong>_

Mary slipped into the library where she found her husband nursing a brandy. Her heart ached for him. All he wanted was to help people. Even Tommy who wasn't even his own flesh and blood, but that didn't seem to matter to Matthew.

"Darling he didn't want to come back with us. There's nothing we could've done except drag him out of there against his will." Mary said in reassurance. She sidled into the seat next to him and took his hand in hers. "At least our boys are here with us right now. Let us be thankful for that."

"That's actually what I was thinking about." Matthew said in a hollow voice. "That no matter how bad things got between me and my boys – I would never – could never throw them out of their home!"

"I know," Mary said sadly, "It upsets me too. And it confuses me so that Sybil can just let that happen. But then again, Tommy's old enough to do what he wants. We should, for now, concentrate on our children for the time being."

"Speaking of which, is Rebecca all right?"

Mary frowned, "Why? What's happened?"

"She seemed awfully quiet on the journey back." Matthew replied in a voice tinged with worry.

Mary chuckled, "Matthew she's always quiet."

"Yes but I felt that she -"

"Mama!" Georgina burst into the library, panting, her face ripe red.

Matthew leapt up, "What in God's name?"

Georgina stared at her mother, apprehension clouding her eyes.

"Darling what's wrong?" Mary asked firmly.

"Oh Mama," Georgina said breathlessly, grabbing her mother's hand. "Mama you have to come now – it's Rebecca. I think she might've… please come!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>7:25pm<strong>_

Rebecca leaned against the staircase, clutching her stomach, the pains contracting sharper and sharper. She took a deep breath, her head spinning. She couldn't take it anymore.

"Becky have you seen my blue scarf?" Georgina asked as she met her sister on the stairs. She peered at her sister closely, her blue eyes widening. "Dear God, what's wrong?"

"I feel so sick!" Rebecca gushed, pushing past her sister and racing to the nearest bathroom. She promptly locked the door and dropped onto the toilet, ignoring her sister who was pounding diligently outside.

"Becky open the door please!" Georgina rattled the handle, "Becky!"

Rebecca slipped her underwear off, her heart accelerating. She stared at the crimson drops dotted on the white cotton. Fear, relief, excitement, embarrassment and anxiety engulfed her as she rubbed her damp temple.

"Rebecca darling," Mary called softly from outside the bathroom door, "Darling open the door and tell me what's wrong?"

Rebecca couldn't think or move. She tried to say something but no sound seemed to come out. And what was she supposed to say?

"Why isn't she saying anything?" Matthew's worried voice cut through Rebecca's state of shock.

"Papa go away!" She shrilled suddenly.

"But darling -"

"Matthew please," Mary said steadily, "I need to speak with her alone. Georgina take your father downstairs, and for God's sake give him another brandy!"

Georgina ushered her bumbling and confused father back downstairs. Mary turned back to the door. She whispered, "Rebecca it's just me now."

The lock turned slowly. The door creaked open to reveal a terrified brown eye staring at her through the crack. Mary pushed the door open further.

"Mama," Rebecca said in a voice vibrating with shock, "I think – I think I've started my period." She burst into tears.

"Oh my darling!" Mary cooed, pulling her youngest daughter into a loving hug.

"My stomach has been hurting all day Mama!" Rebecca sobbed, "It's so embarrassing!"

She stroked her golden strands murmuring. "There, there. You don't need to sound so sad, this is perfectly normal. You know that."

"Does this mean I'm a woman now?" Rebecca sniffed.

Mary giggled, "Oh my darling you are far from it! Now have you taken care of your situation? You remember what I told you?"

Rebecca dithered. "Help me again Mama. Please."

* * *

><p><em><strong>8:00pm<strong>_

"Georgina what on earth is going on with your sister - no I don't want anymore brandy!" Matthew snapped as his daughter tried to top his glass up, "I've drunk enough for both of us! Now please tell me what I'm missing!"

Georgina giggled, "Really Papa. You amuse me! It's not like you haven't been through this before!"

Matthew shrugged in confusion.

"Don't you remember Papa? July 25th 1934?"

"No!" Matthew groaned, "Why must you speak in riddles? Is this what it's going to be like once Edward's left? Why can't you girls just communicate properly? It's like living in a foreign house, I feel so left out!"

Georgina struggled to contain her laughter. Footsteps were heard scurrying towards them.

Matthew whipped around in agitation as soon as Mary set foot inside the library. Her face was flushed and her eyes held a mischievous glint.

"Well?" He demanded impatiently.

Mary nodded at Georgina with a knowing smile. "Go to your sister darling. She's in her room."

Georgina returned the smile, glanced at her father and hurried out of the library.

"Oh - look Mary just tell me straight, what's going on with Rebecca?" Matthew asked frantically, "Is she all right?"

"Oh yes," Mary breathed with delight, "She's just fine."

Matthew frowned in confusion, "So what was all that fuss about upstairs?"

Mary beamed. "Our daughter's – well – she's become a woman today Matthew."

Matthew's confused frown deepened, "Mary – I – I don't understand…" He watched the smile spread on his wife's face. The penny finally dropped. Along with his jaw. "Oh my God. You mean to say that...Rebecca?"

Mary nodded.

"Our Rebecca? My little girl?" Matthew stuttered.

"Yes." Mary replied gently. "And I have to tell you I'm relieved, she was much later than Georgina or I. Even my sisters."

"Yes, well," Matthew sputtered as his knees sunk to his armchair. He grasped his hands together trying to make sense of it all. "So she's finally crossed the line."

"Finally. I'm going to go and call your mother and Mama, they'll want to come by tomorrow." Mary said in a voice laced with pride. "Oh Matthew, isn't it funny that such a wonderful thing could happen amongst such horror!"

"I suppose." Matthew murmured, still trying to comprehend the situation.

"Isn't marvellous now. Both our girls have grown up?" Mary said softly.

Matthew watched his wife hurry out of the library, a treasured memory submerging from his subconscious.

"Marvellous." He whispered.

_**June 2nd 1933**_

_Benjamin Crawley's screams pierced through the peaceful halls of Downton Abbey. Mary's eyes snapped open. Her and her husband stirred in familiar discomfort._

_"Mary I think your son needs feeding," Matthew groaned, patting her absently._

_Mary glared at him. "Actually I think your son needs to be changed! That's not his hungry cry!"_

_"All right, all right you're the mother. I suppose that means it's my turn." Matthew muttered sleepily, rising from the bed and stumbling out of the bedroom. He blinked repeatedly in the dim lights flooding the hallway. He could just about see a small figure standing at the end of the long corridor wearing a pink nightdress and clutching a small doll. He squinted harder, "Rebecca?"_

_"Papa!" Rebecca squealed, racing down the corridor and leaping straight into her father's arms._

_Matthew carried his six year old daughter towards the nursery. "Oh you're getting heavy! Now what are you doing up at this time young lady? You should be sleeping in the playroom tonight. You know that."_

_"I want to go back to my room! I don't like sleeping in the playroom Papa!" Rebecca whined, "Edward's scaring me! Why does he have to be there?"_

_"Because he has chicken pox and your Mama and grandmother thinks it would be a good idea for you to spend time with him while he's ill." Matthew sighed, giving his daughter a small peck on her cheek._

_"But then won't I get chicken pox too?" Rebecca wailed._

_"Yes. That's why. If you get chicken pox now, you won't suffer so much when you're older." Matthew said with sympathy._

_Rebecca pouted. "But Joseph and Georgina don't have to stay in the playroom!"_

_"They did when they were younger." Matthew whispered as they reached the lip of the nursery. He set his daughter down, "Stay here and wait."_

_"But -"_

_"Uh-uh," He interrupted sternly. She pouted at him. Matthew hurried to tend to his impatient son, lifting him out of his crib with expertise, he muttered, "Hush little one." He gently set him aside on the changing mat and peeked into his nappy with a frown. "That's odd."_

_"What's odd Papa?" Rebecca asked._

_"Benji doesn't need to be changed. And he doesn't seem to be hungry…" Benjamin squealed and kicked his legs in protestation. "What do you want my little man?" Matthew cooed. _

_"He wants you to sing to him Papa," Rebecca said softly, "He likes nursery rhymes. Then he'll go to sleep."_

_Matthew turned to his daughter in surprise, trying to pacify his restless son, "How do you know that my darling?"_

_Rebecca smiled impishly, "Sometimes when he's having a nap I like to come in here and watch him sleep. And when he starts to cry, I sing to him and he goes back to sleep."_

_Matthew gazed at his little girl, really seeing her for the first time and knowing he had overlooked the person she is, the person – know the woman she was going to be._

_"In that case let's sing to him now," Matthew said tenderly. He carried Benjamin to the rocking chair and adjusted him into the crook of his arm._

_"I'll stay here," Rebecca said firmly, flinging herself down onto the floor and crossing her legs. "I don't want to give him chicken pox!"_

_Matthew chuckled. "That's a smart idea Becky. You know, I think you're going to become an intelligent woman someday."_

_Rebecca blushed, clutching her doll to her chest. "I'm not a woman!"_

_"Yet." Matthew stroked Benjamin's creamy cheek with his thumb. Benjamin's blue eyes gleamed at him in expectation while his tiny hands reached up for him. Matthew slipped his finger into his son's miniscule palm. "What shall we sing to him? What songs does he like?"_

_"Sing 'Hush Little Baby,'" Rebecca said with excitement. "That's my favourite song!"_

_"Yes I know," Matthew replied with a smile. "All right, let's sing it together…"_

Matthew shook his head out of the memory, feeling a great sense of despair consume him. No, it wasn't despair it was more – disappointment? The same feeling he had when Georgina had become a woman. He had wanted to wrap them up in blankets and keep them his little girls forever. But nothing lasts forever. War had taught him that much.

As he stared out of the window into the blackening sky he felt an intense fear creeping into the pit of his stomach at the turn of events the war was going to bring to them next year, Tommy's words echoing in the forefront of his mind.

_"Because not only is Hitler planning on invading Scandanavia soon but Germany's planning on postponing opera –invading France until the Spring at the very latest."_

Matthew's fingers clenched tightly around the neck of his scotch decanter. What was Tommy about to say? Operation what?

_"Probably because the weather would be better for an attack."_

Matthew lifted the decanter out of the holdall.

_Better for an attack…_

He popped the lid off.

_Better for an attack…_

He poured himself a lengthy measure.

_Better for an attack…_

And knocked it back in one gulp.

_Probable spinal damage._

Matthew slammed the glass back down, breathing hard, his entire body shaking in fear and paranoia. Not for himself but for his sons. Both of them. Tommy's words had chilled him to the very bone and all he could think about was Joseph and Edward going off and willingly placing themselves in danger. Matthew wanted to yell at them, scream at them to just stay at home and be safe. That poisonous word, attack, made it seem even more real to him now. He didn't want his sons to be amongst such hell. Why couldn't they open their eyes to it? It's not a game, it's war!

But had he not done exactly the same thing as they did? How could he possibly chastise his sons when he had once put his mother through exactly the same kind of trauma? And Mary… Oh God Mary.

He stole a glance at the door. He had to go to her tonight. He needed the comfort and reassurance of her arms, just for tonight. For God's sake, just for tonight.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	16. The Ace of Hearts

**Author's Note: **Hey! Thanks again for all the great reviews and support, alot of you are empathizing with our Matthew, which is good - because - I have something to tell all of you. Remember I said in the last chapter that Rebecca's growing up is important for the story? Well, I've recently been hit with a HUGE idea for a storyline which involves Rebecca and it all gets kicked off in this very chapter! This storyline is going to affect not only her but the ENTIRE family! And the fact that it's set against the backdrop of WW2 shakes up the house even more! It may be what you think but it may not be what you think. ;)

So just be patient and stay tuned is all I can say because I guarentee you won't be disappointed!

So read this chapter and tell me what you think! x

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><p><strong>Chapter 16 - The Ace of Hearts<strong>

_**January 18th 1940**_

The day after Joseph left once again brought an unsettling hush upon the grounds of Downton Abbey. Even once the little remaining servants returned shortly after New Year, they retreated quietly to their quarters, each lost in their own personal suffering of this war.

The New Year also dragged the due date for Edward's impending departure closer and closer, much to Mary and Matthew's uneasiness. An anxious Edward spent most of his hours shut up in the library or riding Chestnut, frequently snapping at anyone who crossed him.

Rebecca slipped out of the house that morning, eager to escape the awkwardness of the house. She relished the cool, sharp air, stinging her face, whipping through her hair as she strode through the village she had grown up in. She paused beside her favourite bookshop with a small grin. She'd probably read every single book in that tiny shop at least three times.

"Oooh bad luck, try again next time!"

Rebecca spun around. A large crowd was huddled together at the corner of the street, groaning and chuckling at something. Curiously Rebecca wandered over towards them to try and get a closer look. A boy who couldn't have been more than sixteen, stood arrogantly behind a table while shuffling a deck of cards in his hand with casual expertise.

"Right who's next then?" He asked haughtily, running his hand impatiently through his thick golden-brown tresses. Rebecca had never seen him before. She remembered her father always telling her to stay clear of gypsies as they would be sure to target her, but she couldn't remember any coming to Downton, not for a long time. Was he a gypsy?

"I'll give it a go." A small, square-built lad who Rebecca recognized as Charlie Drake, the son of one of her father's tenants, stepped forward proudly.

"Very well." The boy lazily fanned out his cards. "Pick a card and show it to the audience, not to me."

Charlie selected a card from the middle and showed the eighth of Clubs to the crowd, keeping it well hidden from the boy.

"Now place it back on the deck." The boy ordered in a voice dripping with conceitedness. His hazel-green eyes held a mischievous glint. Rebecca noticed that he had prominent dimples in his cheeks and small wrinkles around his eyes when he grinned.

"Anywhere on the deck?"

"Yes, anywhere you like."

Charlie just slipped the card back somewhere in the middle. Rebecca crossed her arms, watching interestedly. With a self-assured smirk etched upon his face, the boy doled through the pack of cards, tossing each one aside – until he came across the eighth of clubs. He stabbed the card with his finger.

"That your card?" He asked nonchalantly.

"Yes!" Charlie replied in amusement while the crowd broke out into another round of respective applause.

The boy held his hands up, "All right, all right! One last chance – anyone else fancy a try to take me on?"

"I'll do it."

The crowd murmured in bewilderment, searching around for the source of the voice. The boy frowned. "Who said that?"

"I did," Rebecca answered, stepping forwards with her arms crossed. "I said I'll take you on."

The boy's jaw dropped in astonishment. Then he sniggered, "Look, love - no offence yeah, but I really don't think you could."

"Oh I assure you I can." Rebecca countered, her eyes flashing dangerously. "What are you so afraid of?" She tilted her head, "That you could be called out by a girl."

There was a collective round of impressed jeers from the crowd. The smile slipped off the boy's face.

"I'm trying to save you the trouble." He said heatedly, "I've been doing this trick for years! And no one's beaten me so it's not worth a try."

"It's really no trouble. Humour me." Rebecca said evenly.

"Come on Tim, give our Lady Rebecca a chance!" Charlie called out, shooting a wink at her.

"A Lady hmm?" Tim rolled his eyes, "Typical!" He breathed in contempt.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rebecca asked coolly.

"It means that you don't need to embarrass yourself in front of everyone," Tim said in a low tone, "Anyone else want a try, apart from this - very persistent Lady?"

"Just give the girl a chance! What do you have to lose?" A woman asked in amusement.

"His self-respect when he does." Rebecca muttered, trying to suppress an oncoming smirk at the new cheers which were being delved her way. "I've read dozens of books on magic tricks. I'm sure I can call you out on this one!"

Tim scoffed, "Magic books! I've never heard anything so insulting! Just like a noblewoman!"

Rebecca's eyes widened innocently, "What did I say?"

"You can't learn magic from books!" Tim spat with disdain.

"Try me?" Rebecca retorted, defiantly staring him down.

Tim sucked in a sharp breath and eyed Rebecca methodically before nodding slowly and circulating out his cards once again, saying in a rough voice, "I'm sure I don't need to explain the rules to you sweetheart?"

"Oh no," Rebecca said amiably as she carefully pulled out a card right at the end of the fan, Tim's eyes were on her movements the whole time. "The book explained the rules very clearly."

Tim cleared his throat loudly and shuffled the deck with impatience, "Well show it to everybody then!"

Rebecca smiled, showed her card to the crowd and then very surreptitiously slipped it back into the deck, all the while maintaining eye contact with Tim. Their fingers touched briefly. Rebecca drew her hand back instantly as if his touch burned her, a pleasant flush creeping into her neck.

Tim shuffled the deck with expertise and began dishing out the cards, aware of the expectant hush which had settled amongst the crowd. Rebecca watched him with baited breath. Finally, he dropped the King of Hearts of the table and jabbed at it with his middle finger, saying proudly, "That your card?"

Rebecca shook her head, a small smile playing about her lips while a murmur of respect rippled through the crowd. "Close. But no, that's not my card."

"Liar!" Tim countered hotly.

"She's telling the truth Tim mate," Charlie said placidly, "We all saw the card." He pointed to the King of Hearts, "And that's not it."

In a daze Tim rootled through the deck and dropped a Jack of Hearts on the table. "That's your card."

Rebecca shrugged, "Close again but – no."

Tim's mouth dropped in a slight panic merged with scorn. "Fine." He bitterly sifted through the deck once more and dropped the Queen of Hearts on the table. "That's definitely your card!"

Rebecca pursed her lips. "Nope. Close again. But no." And she drew from within the folds of her sleeve, the Ace of Hearts and placed it proudly amongst the centre of the table. "That's my card."

"How – how did you…?" Tim sputtered while the rest of the crowd broke out in a surprise murmur. "But I saw you – we all saw you put a card back in!"

"Did you really?" Rebecca said squarely. She turned on her heel and stalked off leaving Tim to gape after her.

* * *

><p>Rebecca arrived late in the afternoon, refreshed and happy from her walk around the village. Somehow she couldn't get the image of Tim's shocked face when she had pulled the Ace of Hearts right out of her sleeve, the thought made her giggle.<p>

Matthew had been pacing on the landing throwing impatient glances at watch for the past hour and a half. Finally he heard Cutler welcome his daughter back into the house. Relief and irritation flooded every morsel of his body. She was home.

"Rebecca!" Matthew's frantic voice sliced through her pleasant thoughts, "Where are you?"

"I'm in the foyer Papa!"

Matthew frantically scurried downstairs. "Where have you been?" He snapped.

"I've just been out walking Papa." She answered as calmly as he could.

"All day? Without a chaperone?" He raged.

"I'm thirteen years old!" Rebecca snapped, "I don't need a chaperone! What do I have to do to make you realize I'm not a child anymore!" She pushed past him and stormed up the spiral staircase, nearly crashing into her mother who was gliding down.

"What was that all about?" Mary asked in puzzlement as they heard a door slam.

Matthew closed his eyes in defeat. "She was out walking around the village."

Mary shrugged, confused, "So? What of it?"

"I don't like her walking out by herself! It's not just her, I don't want anyone from this house walking around the village!" Matthew said firmly, heading towards the front parlour with his newspaper tucked under his arm. "You don't know who they'll meet. There are more and more reports of German spies roaming around rural areas and I should hate to think they'd have a link to this house!"

"Oh Matthew don't be ridiculous!" Mary replied dismissively as she followed him, "You can't ban the servants from wandering around the village on their days off."

"I don't want to ban them, I just want them to be careful that's all." He reclined in his favourite armchair and flung open the broadsheet to scan the front page, "These bloody spies are so skilfully manipulated it's easy for a young girl of Rebecca's age to get caught up in the whirlwind of it all."

"Rebecca's not stupid; she knows her way around life." Mary said softly.

"Still," Matthew pressed on thinly, "I want her to be careful and vigilant. That goes for you and Georgina too," He added sternly.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Oh Matthew."

"Oh and Benji! Children are the most favourable target!"

"Matthew -"

"And as for the servants well," He chuckled darkly, "Let's just say I want them to know where their loyalties lie."

"I'm sure they know exactly where their loyalties lie." Mary said placidly, "Now are you going to tell me what's really going on?"

Matthew looked over his paper at her in bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

Mary sighed and sat down next to him, "Ever since Joe left again, you've been growing more and more agitated. And Benjamin can sense something's wrong. Have you noticed he's not making a mess in here?" She indicated the parlour, "He's withdrawn to his playroom again. So tell me, what do you know?"

Matthew pursed his lips. He reached out for his wife's hand which she took gratefully. "Tommy was right Mary." He said in a bland voice. "He was right about Germany's plans to invade Scandinavia and the postponement of the invasion of France. I've just been contacted by the war office. They found out about it two days ago from some documents they captured."

"What?" Mary breathed, "But how on earth -?"

"Could Tommy know?" Matthew finished with a grimace, "That's exactly what I want to know."

"Well he said it was just pub talk."

"Do you really believe that Mary?" Matthew asked, glaring at her so intently she released his hand and looked away. "They were captured documents! That was only released two days ago. Ask yourself, how could Tommy possibly have known about them at Christmas?"

"So what are you trying to say?" Mary shot out, "That Tommy's some sort of spy?"

"I don't know what I'm trying to say!" Matthew shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "But Branson throwing him out of the house, him moving up to London, then asking Georgina not to tell us she's seen him and all sorts of little things that don't add up are slowly starting to make some sense." He flicked his blue eyes towards her. "Yes. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I think he is some sort of spy."

Mary gasped. She glanced around the parlour to make sure they were alone. "Matthew – think about what you're saying."

"I am." Matthew whispered, "It's been going round and round in my head for the past two days. And I hate myself for thinking it but I can't think of any alternative."

"But – but - but surely he's on our side!" Mary said in voice smothered with desperation, "I mean, he warned us didn't he?"

"Maybe that's because we're his family." Matthew said in despair, "So we get a pass."

"A pass from what? Oh, Matthew you're not making any sense!" Mary cried, "Tommy can't be a traitor – he – he just can't be!" The mere thought of it all sent shivers rippling through every inch of Mary's body. The thought that her family could be a traitor was beyond conceivable.

Matthew pulled his wife into an iron embrace, "I promise we're going to sort this out." He muttered into her ear as she clung to him for dear life. "I don't know how but I'm not going to let my family down. I'll protect you even if it kills me."

* * *

><p>Rebecca stood at the centre of her room with her hands on her hips, just staring around the room she had grown up in. She took in the feminine décor with an unsatisfied frown etched upon her beautiful face. The damask walls and bed sheets that were adorned with pastel shades and girlish knick-knacks just seemed sickening to her now. It was almost as if she had been pathetically trying to cling onto a childhood she was quickly leaving behind.<p>

She wandered over to her dressing table which stood faithfully in the corner of her suite, supporting her ornaments and some make-up her mother had given her on her last birthday. Photographs of her family in silver and gold frames lined the table. She began sifting through her old trinkets. Never was she allowed to keep her real diamonds in her room, god forbid. All those necklaces, watches, rings and tiaras were kept under lock and key in her mother's safe. So she just had to make do with her costume jewellery, not that she wore much of it anyway. She didn't think it suited her.

Finally making a decision, Rebecca swept up her hair to keep in out of her eyes and dragged out her old toy chest which had been lying untouched under bed for a good number of years. She blew off the thick sheet of dust in disgust before lifting the thick brass latch and flipping the lid open. Then, one by one she began packing away any remnants of her childhood. All her dolls, including Miss Cynthia, teddy bears, books, puppets, anything remotely feminine that she hadn't already given away to Benjamin, all were compressed neatly into the toy chest.

While she packed, she found her thoughts drifting to Tim. He could've been a gypsy for all she knew but, oh, the way she felt when their fingers had touched… she bit her lip to stop an ecstatic grin from bursting forth. Her heart was hammering with incredible speed and she felt that same familiar flush creep back up her neck at the mere recollection of it. Rebecca shook her head out of her dizzy reverie, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. She gazed around the room. Right, what else needed to go?

The model dollhouses of the Dower and Crawley House were still standing untouched in the corner of the room. She had no use for them now. So she packed away all the small dolls into an old jewellery box and then dragged both dollhouses into the centre of the room, ready to be transported to the attic where it now belonged.

After Rebecca had finished packing away her old toys, she glanced around the room to see if she had forgotten anything. That's when the overlooked but beloved doll, sat majestically upon her highest shelf, caught her eye. Rebecca drifted over to the shelf, her face softening in nostalgia as she reached up and slowly lifted Emily down, smoothing down her silken dress and shoes. Oh how could she have forgotten this doll? It was the exact replica of her with the same honeyed curls, dark brown eyes and peaches and cream skin complexion. Grandpa had bought it for her on her seventh birthday and she had loved it instantly. But then her mother had told her that Emily was a special doll, an expensive doll and it shouldn't be used for playing. It still looked immaculate, unlike her other dolls where the dresses had been tearing loose and the plastic growing grubbier after years of handling. So there she sat for many years, on the highest shelf in Rebecca's room, just waiting for the day when she could be loved again.

Rebecca carefully placed Emily back onto the shelf. She couldn't part with that doll. Not yet anyway. She didn't realize how much time had passed while she was packing. Little footsteps scurried towards her room.

"Becky!" Benjamin called.

"I'm here Benji!"

The handle turned quickly followed by Benjamin sliding into the room, "Mama says come down for dinner! Granny and Grandmama are here too!" His blue eyes widened in surprise as he drank in the emptiness of Rebecca's room. "What's happened to your room?"

"Nothing." Rebecca replied nonchalantly, "I've just decided it's time for a change that's all. I've packed away all my old toys and things. I'm going to ask Cutler or Edward to take them to the attic after dinner. You can have some of my old books if you like though I doubt they'd interest you much."

"But why are you taking your toys up to the attic?" Benjamin moaned, "I thought you liked your dolls!"

"Not anymore." Rebecca said curtly, trying to push her brother out the door but he steadily remained rooted to the spot.

"But what about that doll!" Benjamin said emphatically, pointing to Emily who still sat quietly on the shelf.

"Oh, that! Well it's a special doll. It's not like the others. That doll belongs in here and the others don't. You'll understand when you're older -"

"But I don't understand!" Benjamin whined, stamping his little foot, "Does that mean I have to get rid of all my toys!"

"No!" Rebecca laughed, "You're still young and can enjoy playing with your toys for a long, long time because you're still a child."

"You're still a child too," Benjamin said openly, "You play games with me."

Rebecca sighed. "Yes Benji, but there comes a time when all that just needs to stop and if the grown-ups are refusing to listen then you just have to force them to."

Benjamin reclined against the spine of the door, his face a mask of sadness and confusion. "So does this mean you're not going to play with me anymore?"

Rebecca's heart melted but straightened herself up with cool composure. "Come on," She said brightly, "We should get down to dinner."

Benjamin moped off in a sulk. Rebecca turned back to her room for one final look, her hand clasped firmly around the doorknob. She smiled in a self-satisfied manner, almost as if she were saying good riddance.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean you're clearing away all your things?" Isobel asked Rebecca in surprise at dinner, once Benjamin had blurted it out in front of everybody.<p>

"They were taking up too much clutter and I don't need them anymore." Rebecca replied with a shrug. "In fact I haven't needed them for a long time." She turned towards her brother who was shovelling pie into his mouth. "Ed - can you help Cutler take them up into the attic. Please."

Edward nodded. "Whatever you want."

"It all seems rather sudden," Matthew commented evenly, exchanging a glance with his wife then his mother, "Why now?"

"Why not?" Rebecca retorted.

"I think it's a good idea," Georgina interjected swiftly, "It shows that she's finally ready to move on."

Matthew didn't say anything, he just carried on eating with a worried crease between his brow.

"Why not give all your things away to charity?" Isobel suggested with enthusiasm, "Or keep it for when the evacuees come. I'm sure they'll be lots of little girls that will be delighted to play with your toys and dolls!"

"That's a good idea," Mary agreed.

Rebecca paused thoughtfully. "All right. I'll keep it for them."

"So do you need my help or not?" Edward asked irritantly.

"What's wrong with you?" Georgina shot out, "You seem even more bad tempered than ususal."

Edward shrugged, "I'm just - I have a lot of work to do before my exam, that's all."

Cutler swiftly entered the dining room wearing a look of confusion mixed with distaste. "My Lord, this was found outside the servants quarters." He placed a small, square envelope beside Matthew. "It was addressed to Lady Rebecca."

Everyone at the table snapped their heads towards Rebecca in shock.

"Who would be writing to you?" Edward asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"I don't know!" Rebecca fired back, her heartbeat accelerating with every second. She glanced at the letter. Who on earth would be writing to her?

"Perhaps she has an admirer," Cora said with a smirk.

"Don't be ridiculous Mama!" Mary snapped, "She's not old enough for all that!"

"Yes she is!" Georgina said hotly, springing to her sister's defence. "Becky, do you have a crush?"

"No," Rebecca said lightly as the memory of Tim and this morning immediately came rushing to the forefront of her mind. A deep blush flowed to her cheeks, betraying her instantly.

"Rebecca?" Mary said sternly, her eyes blazing.

"I promise you Mama, I don't know anything!" Rebecca said defensively.

Matthew finally picked up the letter and passed it to his daughter. "It's addressed to you after all." He said in a gruff voice, his eyes darting around the room.

With her hands trembling and all eyes glued to her, Rebecca Crawley fumbled with the envelope. She prised open the flap, peered inside….and smiled. The grin spread from ear to ear.

"What is it?" Edward demanded impatiently.

Rebecca tipped the contents of the envelope into the middle of the table. The Crawley family and Cutler, leaned over to catch a glimpse.

There, lying upon the crisp, white table cloth was the Ace of Hearts.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	17. Could You Be The One?

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone! Thanks for all the reviews and support on the last chapter! Loads of you expressed concerns over Tommy being a Nazi spy, well don't worry he's one of the good guys but he's just a little cagey that's all! Anyway this chapter deals with Rebecca and her feelings for Tim and another certain person pops up again! ;) Also, we get an insight into Matthew's role in this war which entails ALOT of research to get done properly but it's so complicated so forgive me if there are any slip ups!

So read it and please tell me what you think! x

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 17 - Could You Be The One?<span>**

**_February 28th 1940_**

"Why do we need to mark these books with crosses when we go to buy sweets?" Benjamin asked with a frown as he skipped beside his sisters on their way to the confectionary shop. They were wrapped up warm in heavy coats, gloves and scarfs in the bitter weather but they welcomed the fresh air.

"It's called a rationing book Benji," Georgina answered patiently, "And everyone in Britain has to have one."

"Why?"

"Well it's quite complicated," Georgina said carefully, "You see – we can't really get as much food as we wanted from abroad anymore."

"Is it because the Germans will attack our food ships?"

"Yes – how did you know?" Rebecca asked suspiciously.

"I heard Mrs Plum complaining about it to Mr Cutler," Benjamin gushed, "She said that it's hard to buy meat, fish and eggs now."

"Yes I'm afraid it is," Georgina sighed as she glanced at her rationing book, "So don't go too out of control with the sweet selection all right Benji?"

"All right." Benjamin said wryly. "But I still don't understand why we have to ration the sweets! If the Germans want our sweets they don't need to attack our sweet ship! I don't mind sharing them!"

Georgina and Rebecca couldn't help but burst into peals of laughter.

"What did I say?" Benjamin asked with a puzzled smile.

"Nothing!" Georgina chuckled as they pushed open the door of the confectionary shop, "You're just - so funny that's all!

"Oh it's so nice to see that there's still some laughter left in this village!" Mrs Andrews exclaimed delightfully from behind the counter.

"Hello Mrs Andrews," Rebecca greeted, still giggling.

"Hello Lady Rebecca, Master Benjamin, Lady Georgina." Mrs Andrews chirped as she nodded at each of them with a broad grin. "What will it be today?"

Benjamin excitedly placed his rationing book on the counter and then frowned. "Why is mine and Rebecca's book blue and yours is a different colour?"

Georgina rolled her eyes, "Because I'm a grown u – over sixteen," She said swiftly. "Now choose your sweets."

"Sugar mice, fudge and lemon drops!" Benjamin squeaked.

"About 8 ounces. And can you add some sherbet with that too." Georgina said with a smile. "How's Mr Andrews doing?"

"As well as can be expected Lady Georgina," Mrs Andrews answered sadly as she measured their sweets on the weighing scales, "He's still very much upset about our young Jack being called up. I think the memories of the last war still haunt him."

"I know exactly how you feel Mrs Andrews," Georgina said in a voice smothered with sympathy and compassion. "Joseph has gone off to fight and Edward will be going off as a medic. And my father is especially unnerved as he still has memories of the last war – he didn't do too well."

"I remember that well Lady Georgina." Mrs Andrews replied quietly as she wrapped their sweets up tightly. "Oh what horrors are we expecting this time? I'm afraid only time will tell. That'll be… five shilling please."

Georgina handed over her coins and slipped her own ration book across the counter. The bell tinkled softly as the door opened. They didn't turn around.

"Aah Dominic!" Mrs Andrews exclaimed in excitement. Georgina froze. "What are you doing back here?"

"I'm here visiting my relatives Mrs Andrews," Dominic said with a laugh, "How's Jack doing?"

"He's bearing it strong," Mrs Andrews said thinly, "I've just been telling Lady Georgina here that my husband isn't too keen on him being called up."

While the old woman behind the counter rambled on, Georgina turned around very slowly until she was face to face with Dominic. She sucked in her breath. He looked much more handsome than she remembered, his green eyes glistening brightening with recognition as they rested upon her.

"Hello Dominic," Georgina said coolly.

Dominic gave her a soft smile and tipped his hat at her, "Hello Lady Georgina. How are you?"

"I'm very well. How about you?"

Dominic's eyes promptly clouded. "Well – I – I've -"

"Sorry, sorry!" Georgina interrupted hastily, "I know I'm not supposed to be mentioning the war…."

"It's fine!" Dominic said, waving his hand dismissively, "Don't worry about it. How's your brother – Joseph? He's getting along in the second division all right?"

Georgina's heart warmed instantly. He had remembered their last conversation. "Yes. He seems to be."

"Can we go now?" Benjamin tugged on her sister's hand impatiently, "I want to eat my sweets!"

"Benji!" Rebecca hissed.

"You must be Benjamin," Dominic said with a smile, crouching down in front of the youngest Crawley before Georgina could say anything.

"Yes," Benjamin eyed Dominic curiously, "Who are you?"

"I'm Dominic Hamiliton," He glanced at Georgina, "I'm…"

"A friend," Georgina finished curtly, she tried to pull Benjamin away, "Let's go home now."

"Are you a soldier?" Benjamin asked in awe.

"I'm a pilot," Dominic whispered with a wink.

Benjamin's eyes widened, "Really!"

"All right, I really must take my little brother home before he bursts with excitement," Georgina said firmly but her eyes beheld a small twinkle.

Dominic stood up, his eyes never leaving Georgina's face. "In that case I'll see you around then."

Georgina nodded. "Of course. We're always around. Aren't we Rebecca?" She turned to her sister quickly.

"Oh yes," Rebecca said in a tone dripping with mockery, "Always around."

"So you girls haven't been conscripted yet?" Dominic asked with a grin.

Georgina laughed, "No – but we're expecting a herd of city children in a few months so…"

"Oh I see."

The door opened quickly, a tall, well-built figure darted into the shop, slamming the door behind him. "There you are Dom, it's freezing out there!"

Rebecca's heart plummeted as he looked up at them, his hazel-green eyes brightening then glazing over in an unreadable expression.

It was Tim.

"Hello Lady Rebecca," He said in a hollow voice, nodding at her.

"Hello Tim." She greeted back thinly.

"Who's this now?" Benjamin asked impatiently.

Rebecca blushed, "Tim – this is my sister Georgina and my brother Benjamin. And this is – Tim…?"

"Alexander," Tim said with a nod at each of them before turning his eyes upon Rebecca, "Did you receive my letter?" He asked with a smirk.

Rebecca's eyes flashed, "Yes I did."

"You?" Georgina interjected in disbelief, "You're the one that sent her that letter with the Ace of Hearts inside?"

"Yes." Tim replied casually, his eyes still fixed on Rebecca's face, "She understands."

Georgina turned to her sister with a frown and muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "Rebecca, what's he talking about?"

"I'll explain later," Rebecca murmured in response, a deep flush flooding to her pale cheeks.

"Tim, have you been charming the Earl of Grantham's youngest daughter?" Dominic asked with an uneasy laugh, clapping Tim on the shoulder.

"You know him?" Georgina asked in amazement.

"We became aquainted yesteday." Dominic replied with a grin. "It turns out we both have a mutual topic in common."

Rebecca just looked to each of them in polite confusion.

"War." Tim answered pointedly, seeing her expression, "I'm joining the army as soon as I turn sixteen, but I feel I'll be a little out of my depth so I've asked Dominic here," He grasped his shoulder, "To give me some insight into what's to be expected."

"That's nice of you." Georgina said to Dominic with sincerity.

Dominic shrugged, "It feels good to help the next generation as it were. I know being a pilot's a little different than a soldier but, at the end of the day we're all fighting the same battle aren't we."

Georgina nodded, her eyes flicking to the floor in sadness as her mind drifted to her brothers.

"When are you sixteen?" Rebecca asked Tim.

"July twenty-fourth, but I want to be properly prepared, I want to know what's expected of me," Tim replied with determination.

"I wish my brother Edward shared your principles," Rebecca said steadily. "He seems to think that just because he's going in as a medic, he's suddenly invincible."

"Really?" Dominic asked Georgina in surprise. She just nodded grimly.

Tim raised his brow. "He's going in as a medic? That's respectable."

"Thank you." Rebecca said softly.

"Are you young un's going to stand there all day and chit chat, only I've a shop to run!" Mrs Andrews interjected with a knowing smile.

"Of course," Georgina said hastily, ushering her siblings around the boys and towards the door, "Well it's been a pleasure meeting you again Dominic," She said evenly, the memory of their last meeting still lingering sharply between them, "And you Tim."

"Yes," Rebecca added quickly, "It –it has, um, are you going to stay around long?" She tried not inject any hope into her voice but her eyes betrayed her.

"I hope so," Tim replied with a shrug, "After Dominic goes back – I'm all on my own, so I suppose I'll need someone else to look after me." He smiled, "Someone who knows this village well."

"We know the village well!" Benjamin piped up.

Rebecca squeezed his hand to shut him up. Tim just laughed.

"I know mate. That's my subtle way of requesting the pleasure of your sister's company," He awkwardly raked his hands through his hair, "But I don't seem to doing quite a good job of it!" He flashed her a dazzling smile.

Rebecca felt a pleasant fluttering sensation in her stomach. She glanced at the floor and released a small laugh, "Well – we should get back home. Have a pleasant day."

"You too Lady Rebecca. Tim swept her hand into his and bowed his head, pressing a tender kiss to her hand, his eyes never leaving her face.

Rebecca struggled to contain the smile spreading upon her lips. "Thank you. Take care." They immediately edged out of the shop.

"And you," Dominic called after them. Georgina just nodded but she didn't look too pleased about the exchange between her sister and Tim.

Tim continued to stare after Rebecca after they'd left, watching them walk back up the high street through the window.

"I wouldn't even go there Timmy," Dominic said with a warning edge embedded in his voice, "You know she's only thirteen?"

"No!" Tim replied in disbelief, "She seems much older than that – she looks it too! How is that possible?"

"I blame that family of theirs. They keep those girls locked up like they were in some kind of nunnery." Dominic said sourly, "It's such a shame. First time I met Lady Georgina, I thought I had fallen in love, but it turns out she doesn't know anything about life outside the aristocracy."

Tim scoffed, "I find that hard to believe when her sister knows so much, too much actually."

"Well maybe Lady Rebecca's different." Dominic sighed, "It's sad you know. Before the war they were so wrapped up in their own little fairy tale world, where their parents still live happily together and everything is rosy." Dominic fidgeted uncomfortably, "But I have a feeling - this war is going to tear them apart if it hasn't already."

"You say that like you care about her," Tim said emphatically.

Dominic bit his lip, "I can't help it. Whenever I felt myself in danger – her face somehow came into my mind. Even though at our first and last meeting we argued and I admit I was quite rude to her. I suppose looking back on it now – she was trying to make me feel better."

"I heard they go to the local school is that really true?" Tim asked in a hushed voice, "Don't they have – like – tutors or something?"

"It's their father," Dominic replied with a fond smirk, "After he became the Earl he wanted his children to be brought up in the similar way he was. So they'd become more independent. Especially his daughters. Ironically, it hasn't taught Lady Georgina about the real meaning of life though."

"Now are you lads going to buy something or not?" Mrs Andrews interrupted crossly, "Because if you aren't you can take your conversation outside! I won't have you disrespecting those young ladies in my shop, I can tell you that!"

"We're not disrespecting them!" Tim retorted.

"On the contrary we're just expressing our opinions on how respectable their upbringing has been." Dominic said smoothly, "There's nothing wrong with that is there?"

"Humph!" Mrs Andrews growled, "You boys must think I was born yesterday! And you!" She jabbed her finger at Tim, "Stay away from young Lady Rebecca." She flicked her eyes to Dominic who shrunk back, "Lady Georgina's strong willed enough, takes after her mother in that respect but as for Rebecca - She's a beautiful girl with a fragile heart and a family that protect her like guard dogs! So unless you want your demise in the hands of Lord Grantham and his boys, I suggest you stay well clear of her! That is if Lady Grantham hasn't already got to you first! Now, are you going to buy something or not?"

* * *

><p>Matthew Crawley flipped back in his chair, staring at the slip of paper from the British Military Intelligence Office, clutched in his fingers, informing him of the time his new…associates would be moving into Crawley House. He released a long sigh, scrunching up the telegram in his fist and flicking it into the bin. It was finally happening. How did he feel about that? Well, at least he wouldn't have to travel three and a half hours to Buckinghamshire, he could oversee the operation from the comfort of home which was something.<p>

Matthew absently picked up a photograph of his family which was propped near his lamp. It was taken just before Joseph had left for France. His children sat under the large oak tree, beaming at him, elated and relaxed, while himself and Mary stood behind them, laughing, their arms wrapped around each other in security. He felt his heart plummet as he thought of Joseph out there, alone, his life in danger every day. Then his eyes travelled to Edward's grainy figure who was smirking at him in self-satisfaction. How could he let his son go off to war at sixteen? True, he wasn't fighting but he was still at risk wasn't he?

Thank God he could help them from the outside. When the war office had contacted him and requested his services as a cryptographer, the only people he thought about when he readily accepted – were his boys.

Of course the British Military Intelligence had expressed a strong desire to use Downton Abbey as a hub for the operation but Matthew refused point blank, insisting that it was his home first. So he offered them Crawley House instead which they begrudgingly accepted. Nevertheless, it was a start.

A sudden thought wormed into his mind. If he hadn't mentioned to the war office that he had studied Mathematics at University then right now he'd be sitting on his backside watching his sons risk their necks while he felt completely useless.

But not anymore.

Now his dormant talents could finally be of some use, even if it meant he didn't have to go to the front. Truth be told, it was the first time he actually felt this expedient since he was promoted to Captain during the first war.

Matthew heard his little boy's excited footsteps pattering towards his study as fast as his legs could carry him, screaming for his father from the corridor.

"Papa! Papa!" Benjamin rushed into the room without even knocking; Matthew looked up from his desk in amusement. "I met a pilot today Papa, a real pilot, in the sweetshop and he talked to me and -"

"Hold on, hold on, calm down young man!" Matthew laughed, striding towards his son and lifting him onto his lap. "Now, explain slowly."

"We went to the sweetshop and started talking to Mrs Andrews and then a man named Dominic Hamilton came in who was a friend of Georgina's!" Benjamin gushed.

The smile promptly slipped off Matthew's face. "Excuse me? A friend of Georgina's?"

"But he told me he's a pilot Papa, a real pilot like Joe would've been and he's fighting in the war!" Benjamin squealed, completely oblivious to his father's mounting distress.

"Benji try and focus now," Matthew said in a voice laced with exasperation, "What do you mean he was a friend of Georgina's, how do you know this?"

Benjamin's brow puckered, "Because Georgie told me so Papa."

Matthew swallowed, his heart sinking. "I see. Georgina told you."

"Do you want to hear what happened next or not?" Benjamin asked, bouncing on his father's knee with impatience.

"If you must," Matthew muttered, lifting his son off his lap so he could pace around the room.

"Then his friend Tim came in who is going to be a soldier and he said he was a friend of Rebecca -"

"Stop, stop right there!" Matthew ordered. Benjamin's eyes widened in surprise, Matthew dropped to his knees so he was eye level with his son. "What do you mean he said he was a friend of Rebecca?"

"Well, he didn't say he was a friend," Benjamin replied sheepishly, "But they were talking like they were friends so I thought they must be."

Matthew grasped the handle of the armchair so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. "I see."

"And then he asked her if she got his letter."

"What letter?" Matthew asked sharply.

"The one that had that card in," Benjamin answered simply.

Matthew nodded, his heartbeat accelerating with every second. He straightened up proudly, "Right, Benji can you call your sisters in here please. I want a word with them."

* * *

><p>Following the events that had taken place that afternoon, at dinner, Rebecca sat as far away from her father as possible, despite her mother and Georgina's futile attempts to make idle, conversation between them. Eventually they both just gave up and returned to their own meal.<p>

Of course Matthew hated arguing with his little girl. It was bad enough when his son was angry with him but when his own daughter looked upon him with scorn and hurt shimmering in those eyes which looked so much his wife; he felt his heart positively break.

After he had summoned both of them to the library, he had taken the time to calmly explain to them about German spies and made sure that they thoroughly knew the boys they were calling 'friends.'

Once Georgina had mentioned her 'friend' was Dominic Hamilton, heir to Hamilton Toys, Matthew felt an immense amount of tension lifted from his shoulders, to be replaced with a burning curiosity about their relationship which he'd be sure to investigate further later on. She was eighteen now and entitled to befriend whomever she chooses as long as he said so, that's all.

Then he turned to Rebecca who explained with such – such informality that she didn't even know who this – Tim Alexander was, yet he knew exactly who she was, well enough to send her a token of his affection at the house! But what really angered Matthew most was Rebecca's persistence that he was a good boy and would soon be a soldier fighting for this country so he couldn't possibly be a spy could he?

"Don't be ridiculous Papa!" That's what she had said to him!

Matthew just wanted to throw something at the wall for all the good he was doing trying to get through to his children. If it wasn't Edward he couldn't reach, then it was Rebecca. God, this war was already proving to be so much more exhausting than the last and he wasn't even fighting!

"Matthew? Darling? How are the preparations going for Crawley House?"

His wife's soft, concerned voice jilted him out of his panicked thoughts. Still quite distracted he turned to her.

"Oh – er fine." Matthew fiddled with his napkin and stretched his lips into what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "They've just moved all the equipment in and they'll be setting up everything tomorrow. Mother will arrive early tomorrow morning." He turned to his youngest who was seated next to him, "Benji – how do you want to see an Enigma machine?"

"What's an Enigma machine?" Benjamin asked in a hushed voice, his blue eyes burning with curiosity.

"You'll see…"

"Sounds intriguing." Edward commented with a careful look at his father. "What's your role in all this?"

Matthew just smiled at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

* * *

><p>Mary took a deep breath, collecting herself together before knocking softly on her daughter's door and entering. "Rebecca?"<p>

Rebecca sat at her vanity table, brushing her honey-blonde hair, one hundred strokes every night, just like Georgina had instructed. She had been right. Brushing your own hair was immensely soothing and she had forgotten all about her argument with her father that afternoon – until now.

Mary tentatively sat down on her daughter's bed. "Darling your father told me what happened in the village today."

"Have you spoken to Georgina?" Rebecca asked tersely.

Mary nodded. "I have. But we know about the Hamiltons, they're a very respectable family. We don't know a single thing about this Timothy Alexander!" Mary scrutinized her daughter for some sort of reaction but she didn't look at her. "Now your father tells me that he was the one who sent you that Ace of Hearts card the other night which meant you met him before. It- it all seems rather coincidental don't you think darling?"

Rebecca just carried on brushing her hair. "And now I'm going to tell you what I told Papa. Tim's a good person Mama, he's not a German spy."

"Oh darling whether he's a spy isn't the question, it's your happiness and safety I'm worried about!" Mary countered intently.

Rebecca finally spun around to glower at her mother, "Why? I'm old enough to make my own mind up aren't I?"

"It's our job as your parents to make your mind up for you. You're thirteen." Mary said quietly.

"I know how old I am!" Rebecca responded waspishly, turning back to the mirror in anger at her mother's interference.

Mary's hand tightened around the bedsheets until she held it in a firm grip. "Then I trust you will make a sensible choice whether you decide to pursue this relationship further."

"Is it because he doesn't measure up to your standards?" Rebecca shot out.

"Now that's not fair!" Mary reprimanded, hurt by the unexpected lash of her daughter's tongue. "You know it has nothing to do with that!"

"I don't understand you Mama," Rebecca said, reverting her tone back into an innocent little girl again, "Tim and I are just friends that's all. And in wartime don't we need to take all the friends we can get?"

"Oh how long have you known him Rebecca?"

Rebecca shrugged, "A day. Two, what does it matter?"

Mary stood up, smoothing the lines on her skirt, she said in a cool and collected voice, "It matters because if you've only just met someone – friendship is far from anything. Just please, please trust me on that."

She left her daughter to ponder those words. But the second she set foot onto the landing, she leant back against the wall and shut her eyes tight, trying to block out the incessant ringing in her ears.

"Mary?" Matthew scurried towards her.

Mary's head snapped up, she hurriedly wiped away the small tear lingering in the corner of her eye.

"What do you think?" He asked in concern, cupping her cheeks in his hands.

"I think – I think you have a right to be worried," Mary said firmly, "I can't get rid of this horrible feeling in the back of my mind that this isn't going to end well."

Matthew stared into her eyes with resolute determination. "It will if we take control of her life."

The unfortunate thing was, Rebecca was actually prepared to listen to her mother's advice and assess her feelings towards Tim. Her parents' concerns made sense to her if she thought about it properly. What did she really know about him? But as soon as her mother had left her room, she hadn't shut the door properly and it snapped open slightly but just enough to allow Rebecca to hear everything.

"It will if we take control of her life."

Rebecca felt her boiling rage bubble to the surface at her father's discreet words. She could've hurled a few things at the door if she wasn't in control of her temper. So once more her life was to be decided by her parents. Who did they think they were anyway? They didn't know Tim and from what she had heard, they had no inclination of getting to know him either! She tugged off her dressing gown, turned off the lights and crawled into bed.

Her head had barely even hit the pillow, when she heard the light taps on the window. Curiously she kicked off the covers and padded to her window. Drawing back the curtain, she flinched in shock as the tiny stones flicked towards her face, bouncing off the window pane.

Releasing a small cry of surprise, Rebecca lifted open the window and peered down, only to see...

"Tim!" She gsaped. "What - what are you doing - how did you -?"

"I bribed one of the maids to tell me which window was yours!" He hissed up at her.

Rebecca's brow puckered, "What kind of a bribe?"

"Does it matter?" Tim retorted impatiently, "I needed to see you."

"You couldn't have waited until the morning?" Rebecca replied in flattered annoyance.

Tim leaned on the large oak tree right outside her room. "Can I come up?"

Rebecca stared down at him with incredulity, "And how exactly are you planning on doing that? Are you going to sprout wings and fly?"

Without answering, Tim simply swung his body onto the largest branch of the tree, then he pulled himself up onto the branch right opposite Rebecca's window while she looked on with bewilderment.

He leaned comfortably on the branch and shot her a smirk. "Much better than wings don't you think?"

"Well you can just wait right there because you're not coming in!" Rebecca said in a cool voice, crossing both arms against her chest, making sure her budding breasts were well covered. "Now what was so important it couldn't wait till the morning?"

"I didn't know you were thirteen!" Tim said through gritted teeth, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Rebecca just shrugged, "You never asked. I don't usually walk around telling strangers my age you know."

Tim raked his hand through his hair, laughing in disbelief, "Do you know how ridiculous it makes me look? Chasing after a child."

"I'm not a child!" Rebecca growled.

Tim cocked his head to one side and gazed at her. "No, I suppose you're not. You're not like other girls I've met. You seem much more grown up for your age."

Rebecca felt her heart swell with pride. "Well - I'm glad you think so. Because my parents don't. So much so, they even questioned our supposed friendship."

"You didn't tell them about me?" Tim asked accusingly, "Oh Rebecca!"

"It was my six year old brother!" Rebecca protested, "So go and yell at him."

"Well what exactly did your parents say?"

Rebecca sighed and ruffled her curls in agitation. "They're not going to approve Tim."

To her surprise Tim just snorted. "I could've told you that much. So what are you going to do?"

Rebecca shifted uncomfortably, "I'm not sure, I haven't had much time to think about it to be honest. What do you think?"

"Well, I thought that we could -"

He was swiftly interrupted by the sound of snarling dogs in the distance, growing closer and closer. Tim looked at Rebecca quizzically.

"What is that?"

"Dogs! You have to go! Now!" Rebecca urged, grabbing the windowsill and ushering him out. "Go!"

Tim blew her a quick kiss and casually swung his way back to safety. Once he landed on the soft grass he padded off into the night while Rebecca watched on with baited breath. Her hand clutched into a gentle fist.

* * *

><p>"So, are you ready for tomorrow General Crawley?" Mary asked her husband with a knowing smile as she caressed cream onto her hands.<p>

Matthew crawled into bed, shooting his wife a withering look. "Is that supposed to be some sort of joke."

Mary shrugged as she began working on her arms, "You were the one who turned it down."

"Because there would've been no point." Matthew retorted in the same light tone. "Anyway, what I'm doing now is much more useful."

"Are you ever going to explain it to me or not?" Mary asked with a pout.

Matthew grinned at her. "I don't want to bore you my love."

Mary's eyes shot up as she surveyed her husband's reflection in her vanity mirror. "Matthew Crawley, our sons are fighting in this war - by all means, bore me!"

Matthew gave her a low chuckle,"I'm going to be in charge of a bunch of young, intelligent graduates who'll be cracking -"

Mary held her hand up to silence him. They both tensed, their ears straining hard as the sound of angry dogs grew closer and closer.

"Can you hear that?" She whispered with a frown.

"What are the guard dogs doing running amok at this hour?" Matthew leapt out of the bed and began scrambling into his dressing gown.

"Is there someone outside?" Mary asked in shock as she clutched onto Matthew's arm. "What about the children?"

He pressed his fingers to his lips as they listened closely. The barking dogs were growing fainter and fainter until they could no longer hear them.

"I think they're gone now." He said in a hushed voice, striding over to the window and gazing out into the darkness. "It was probably just an animal."

Mary reluctantly turned back to the mirror and picked up her hairbrush, an unpleasant feeling gnawing in her gut. "Probably."

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	18. The Casualties Were Small

**Author's Note: **Thanks for all the reviews it means alot! It's so hard writing a soap because you have to drip certain elements into the main focus of the story which is what I have to do to Rebecca's storyline at the moment but soon I'll get to her main point! But in the mean time, this chapter deals with Mary and Matthew's continuing despair at their son off at war and their growing distress at Edward's departure. Also, we glimpse Joseph's life and how different it is in comparison to his life at Downton.

So read it and please tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18 – The Casualties Were Small<strong>

**_March 15th 1940_**

Edward strolled into the dining room at breakfast with a wide grin plastered on his face, "Good morning family!"

"You're behaving oddly chipper today," Matthew commented with a wry smile, "Any reason?"

"I'm going to be sixteen tomorrow aren't I?" Edward replied pointedly, helping himself to some toast. "That means I'm only a few weeks away from getting out of here," He cast a disgruntled look around the grand dining room as if it were some sort of reformatory, ignoring the sharp tenses from his parents. "And out there." He bit into his toast with relish. "Where it really matters."

"It's going to matter here too you know." Mary said crisply as she sipped her coffee.

Edward scoffed. "You know you keep going on about the evacuees, are you sure they even exist?"

"Now there's to be none of that!" Matthew reprimanded, "They'll be coming once everyone in the village is ready, their houses need to pass inspection first."

"Well how long is that going to take?" Georgina asked impatiently.

Matthew shrugged, "A few more weeks. But when the children do arrive at Downton , not all of them are going to be picked so this house will be housing those that have been – left behind."

"The leftovers you mean." Edward quipped.

Matthew closed his eyes resignedly, "Yes Edward, if you want to crudely put it that way then yes."

"Does this mean I have to share all my toys?" Benjamin complained loudly.

"Yes." Mary and Matthew answered sternly. Benjamin leaned back in his seat and pouted.

"That doesn't sound very fair," Georgina said with indignation.

"What, Benji sharing his toys or stuffing all the rogue children in this house?" Edward said with a smirk.

"No!" Georgina shot her brother a sour look, "I mean, I don't think it's fair that people have to choose their children like some cattle at an auction. It's not right."

"But they're opening their homes for them aren't they?" Mary said gently, "It's only fair."

"What's only fair?" Rebecca asked, gliding into the dining room.

"We were just talking about the evacuees… why are you in such a good mood?" Edward asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he took in his sister's beaming demeanour.

"You're a fine one to talk," Mary mumbled into her coffee cup.

"Am I not allowed to be?" Rebecca asked cheerfully as Cutler poured her a small measure of orange juice.

Matthew reached over and patted his daughter's hand with a warm smile, "Of course you are darling, just ignore him."

"Can I go out to the village after breakfast Papa?" Rebecca asked sweetly, "I want to see if the bookshop has received anything new?"

Matthew tensed slightly but covered up his agitation with a quick sip of his tea. "I – I don't see why not as long as someone goes with you."

Georgina nudged her sister, "Don't worry about it I'll come with you." She turned to her father, "Papa will you feel better if I go with her?"

"As long as you don't -"

"Talk to strangers!" His three elder children chorused.

Matthew rustled the newspaper at them in a disgruntled fashion. "I only want you to be careful."

Rebecca rolled her eyes but grinned, leaning over to give her father a peck on the cheek. "Thank you Papa!"

"Meeting anyone special?" Edward asked coolly.

Mary subtly flicked her eyes towards her daughter, her heart catching in her throat.

"What's it you if I am?" Rebecca shot back.

Edward's eyes narrowed into small slits, "Just because I'm leaving, doesn't mean I've stopped fulfilling my duties as a brother."

Rebecca snorted. "Well you can relax. I just want to look at books is that all right with you? Or do I have to get your royal seal of approval?"

"Children please," Matthew begged, rubbing his temple, "I have a splitting headache when I think of all that needs doing today, so can we keep the arguing to a minimum today?"

Edward shrugged and dipped a corner of his toast into his boiled egg, "I just don't want Rebecca to get in trouble that's all."

Rebecca pursed her lips. "Well I won't."

"Good." Edward replied with a satisfied smile, polishing off the rest of his breakfast with relish.

"Good, so can we all eat our breakfast in peace now or does anyone else have anything to add?" Matthew tetchily addressed table.

"Nope, I've fulfilled my duty of irritating everyone for the day." Edward said with contentment, dabbing his lips with his napkin and rising from his seat. "Right, I'm off to the library to revise and then I might take Chestnut out for a ride. No one disturb me until lunch."

"Oh we wouldn't dream of it," Rebecca mumbled, munching her toast.

"Study hard," Matthew called after his son, still not lifting his eyes from the morning paper. Edward just waved his hand back in lethargic recognition.

"What's going on with you today then?" Mary asked in concern, reaching over to rub her husband's hand in affection.

In a fluster, Matthew folded his paper back up. "Oh – well I'm going to go and meet the rest of the group at Crawley House…." He glanced around with a sudden frown, "Speaking of which where's Mama, isn't she supposed to be here already?"

Mary shrugged in casual amusement. "My guess is that she's fussing over all your new employees, telling them where to put everything and inserting every bit of authority she can."

Matthew's eyes widened in comprehension. "Oh goodness, in that case I had better get over there before she wears some of the most intellectual people in the country down to a mere thread!" He drained his tea.

"We should get going too," Georgina said to her sister, finishing off her bowl of fruit, "I want to be back in time to write a response letter back to Clarissa."

Mary's head snapped up, "Lady Clarissa Deveroe? The Earl of Doncaster's daughter? You're in touch with her?"

Georgina nodded, rising from the seat, "She wrote to me asking about Edward."

"Typical." Mary huffed, stirring her second cup of coffee in annoyance. "She snubs him for the best part of sixteen years and then the minute she finds out he's in danger, she comes running like a lovesick puppy dog."

"With all due respect on the poor girl's part, I think it was Edward that snubbed her." Matthew said tentatively, aware of his wife's daily mood swing.

She shot him a wry look. "Yes, Matthew, but it was just that one garden party and in case you didn't notice, Lady Danvers was about to give birth on the front steps of Buckingham Palace so we were all just a tiny bit pre-occupied that day!"

"Anyway!" Rebecca interrupted hastily, rising from her seat also, "I'm thinking about calling in on Grandmama on the way back home."

"Oh that's nice," Mary exclaimed in surprise, brightening up slightly, "I know she was complaining that you girls never visit her."

"Well we're going to put a stop to that aren't we?" Georgina tugged her sister by the hand. "Let's go."

Matthew and Mary watched their girls tearing out of the dining room, giggling incessantly about something, clothes, music, hairstyles, they couldn't understand. All they knew was that Rebecca's sudden lull out of her usual quietened state pulled them both into the depths of apprehension.

Of course it was stupid of them to worry. She was growing up and bound to come out of her shell. In fact, Mary had been waiting for it ever since she turned thirteen. So why did she feel a sense of unease creeping into the pit of her stomach whenever she caught Rebecca's cheerful laugh or playful banter? Her hand travelled to her neck to play with her necklace as she pondered this thought.

Matthew glimpsed his wife's distressed fidgeting as he prepared to leave; he calmly gave her a reassuring peck on the cheek. "Rebecca will be fine. She's strong, just like her mother."

Mary forced her lips into a thin smile but her heartbeat quickened and she couldn't, for the life of her, comprehend why. Rebecca was a good girl. She wouldn't do anything that would hurt herself or her family. Mary shook her head and turned back to her breakfast, pushing away all the maternal instincts that were screaming at her to pay attention to them.

* * *

><p>Rebecca checked her hair in the reflection of the bookshop window to see if she looked presentable, straightening out her skirt and teasing her honeyed curls. She noticed that time had worked wonders on her complexion. Her ripe lips were growing more prominent and her cheekbones were becoming sharper now. All in all, she was quite pleased and excited with the way her body was changing. Her mother commented recently that even though she didn't have exactly the same features as Georgina's, she still beheld her own features which incited the heads of young men to turn and gawp, everywhere she walked, just like they did whenever Georgina or her mother walked out.<p>

"Now are you sure you're going to be all right with me leaving you for a few minutes?" Georgina asked nervously, casting a quick glimpse at the Haberdashery. "I'll just run in, get Edward's birthday present and then come straight back."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "Just go. This shop has become like a second home to me anyway, I'll be fine."

"Remember, I'll be right opposite you." Georgina said firmly, already darting off towards the Haberdashery.

"Just go!" Rebecca grinned and then stepped into the bookshop, welcoming the familiar smell of the fresh tomes which lined the walls, begging to be used.

"Ah, Lady Rebecca!" Mr Milton, the old but kind shop owner tripped down from his ladder in his haste to greet the Earl's youngest daughter and his favourite customer. "Back already."

She smiled at the older man, oblivious to the young man browsing a shelf in the corner of the shop. As soon as her name was announced he jerked his head towards her in surprise recognition but didn't turn around fully.

"Oh you know me, I can't keep away!" Rebecca laughed, heading straight towards the nearest shelf, "So do you have anything new yet?"

Mr Milton chuckled, "No we haven't."

Rebecca pulled a face, "Oh well, never mind. How are you anyway Mr Milton? Your grandchildren still giving you trouble?"

Mr Milton's face clouded. "Oh Lady Rebecca – they're still in London."

Rebecca gasped, "Still? But I thought they'd be coming down here?"

"My daughter doesn't want to leave the house!" Mr Milton said dissonantly, "She's still missing her Toby, I understand that but that doesn't mean she needs to act rashly! I just want them here where it's safe. Every day you read about these horrors going on in London and I keep dreading I'm going to read something about them…" He sniffed, excusing himself so he could blow his nose discreetly.

"Oh Mr Milton," Rebecca gently patted the arm of a gentleman who had become quite like a grandfather to her. "I'm sure they'll be safe, especially knowing they can come here to a father and grandfather as lovely as yourself."

The young man cleared his throat loudly. Rebecca narrowed her eyes in his direction, his head bowed as he examined the lower shelf. Even though she couldn't see his face, the back of his head and the way he carried himself seemed enticingly familiar to her.

Mr Milton smiled gratefully, "Thank you Lady Rebecca. You always have been so very kind." He wiped his eyes hurriedly and straightened himself up. "Oh, listen to me going on about my lot. What about you? Is Lord Downton all right?"

Rebecca nodded grimly, "We try not to talk about it much."

The young man straightened up very slowly. Rebecca glanced at him but didn't say anything.

Mr Milton nodded dejectedly, "That's quite understandable."

"And what with Edward going off too, my parents are trying to bear the load for all of us." Rebecca said with such sadness, her mind drifting towards her brothers.

The young man in the corner turned around sharply. Rebecca blanched, her brown eyes widening and her stomach flipping. It was Tim.

"I think I'll take this one!" He said brightly, heading towards Mr Milton. He glanced at Rebecca briefly and nodded at her in acknowledgment. "Hello Lady Rebecca." He turned his attention back to Mr Milton.

"Hello Tim," Rebecca greeted with a mixture of confusion, hurt and anger at being treated with such… aloofness.

"Oh this is a wonderful book!" Mr Milton exclaimed, cheering up considerably. "Lady Rebecca's read this one haven't you?" He brandished the book at Rebecca, she leaned in for a closer look and tried to suppress an ironic smirk. 'Tess of the D'Urbervilles.'

"Actually, I've read it twice." She replied casually. "It's a good book. Always worth a read."

Tim's lips twitched into a smile. "Well in that case I'll take your word for it. I'll take it." He rootled in his pocket and dropped a few shillings onto the small wooden counter. Rebecca promptly took it as her cue to leave. She scurried out of the shop before he was finished paying for his book and headed off towards the Haberdashery.

The bell tinkled swiftly.

"Rebecca!"

Rebecca sped up.

"Rebecca please wait!"

She felt him grab her elbow, spinning her around to face him. He immediately let go, running his hand through his auburn hair as he shuffled back awkwardly.

Rebecca just glared at him. "So I'm visible to you now am I?"

"Don't be like that!" He snapped, "I had to be indifferent to you, it would've been too awkward otherwise."

"If you say so. I have to go." Rebecca made a move to dart past him but he stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

"Look, you don't understand," Tim said with controlled patience, "I've already been warned off you by that damned Mrs Andrews and now your family knows about me too. I've heard all about your brother Edward's – reputation when it comes to defending your family's honour and I have to say, I don't really have a death wish just yet!"

Rebecca just laughed. "You're going off to war but you're scared of my brother?"

"Yes!"

They held each other's gaze for a moment. Tim's hazel-green eyes were burning with intensity in the way he looked at her. Rebecca nervously tucked a sandy strand behind her ear. "Look, you shouldn't worry about Edward. He's all talk most of the time. He might threaten to break your jaw but he'll never actually do it."

Tim's lips quirked into a smirk, "I'll consider myself lucky then shall I?"

The seal had been broken. Tim led her to a small bench outside the Haberdashery where they sat and talked and laughed for about half-an hour. Rebecca just couldn't believe her luck. Tim was handsome, smart, funny and sensitive towards her feelings. She discovered that he was the youngest of three boys, both of whom were already off and stationed in South Africa and India. As a result, his parents moved to Downton in The Grantham Arms pub where they seemed settled enough. Tim explained with a cheeky glint in his eye that he was always able to make a quick amount of sterling with his magic tricks and if the two of them teamed up, they could split the profits between them.

Oh yes, Timothy Alexander everything she'd ever wanted and much, much more. She believed herself to be in love with Henry Bentinck but after just being with Tim, even for a few seconds, she knew it had been a silly girlish fantasy. Just when she could feel the excitement settling into the pit of her stomach, the door to the Haberdashery swung open followed by Georgina.

"Sorry to keep you waiting Becky but there was such a queue -" She stopped abruptly, catching the scene before her. Her blue eyes widened in polite bewilderment. "What's going on here?"

Tim leapt to his feet. "Lady Georgina! Your sister and I were just chatting about - things that aren't quite war related. I find it takes the edge off, don't you think so?"

Georgina smiled uncomfortably. "Of course. Becky, can I have a word please?" She ushered her bemused sister off to one side and out of earshot before she started laying into her.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Rebecca blanched, her face melting into confusion. "What do you mean?"

Georgina subtly indicated Tim who was loitering idly near the Haberdashery, "Are you being deliberately recalcitrant? I mean I always knew you had a rebellious streak in you but -"

"Don't be so ridiculous!" Rebecca interrupted, "Tim and I are just friends. There's nothing to be worried about."

"Don't give me that," Georgina responded sternly, "I saw the way you two were looking at each other. You know what Mama and Papa think Rebecca."

"You don't need to tell them!"

"Rebecca!"

"Why can't you just trust me Georgie?" Rebecca didn't mean to whine but she couldn't help it. The whole situation was growing unnecessarily frustrating. "I might be thirteen but I'm old enough to know what I'm doing. This is someone I can have a real, intellectual conversation with. He enjoys reading the same books as me, the same stories, we have so much in common. Oh, please, please don't spoil this for me."

When Georgina spoke, her tone was much softer, she felt a surge of affection for her little sister. "Oh Becky, of course I don't mean to spoil it for you. I'm just worried about your happiness that's all." She cast a suspicious eye on Tim. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Rebecca smiled in reassurance. "I won't get hurt."

Georgina placed an arm around her sister, "Look Becky, I'm not going to lie to Mama or Papa. If you want to involve Tim in your life then I suggest you tell them."

Rebecca looked scandalized. "Don't jest!"

"I'm not jesting. Just ask Papa to talk to him and get to know him, that way Papa can see for himself if he's really worthy."

"He is!" Rebecca protested.

Georgina closed her eyes patiently. "Listen Becky, you and Papa - You're both so similar. More than you know. If you like Tim then I'm sure Papa will too. Mama might need a little more persuading. Well, a lot of persuading but if you have Papa in your corner," Georgina raised her voice in exhilaration, "Then you won't need to worry!"

Rebecca bit her lip with building keenness. "Do you think so?"

Georgina grinned broadly. "Absolutely."

* * *

><p>"Absolutely not!"<p>

The smile slipped off Rebecca's face. "Mama!"

The Crawley family were gathered together in the library, preparing to listen to the daily news on the wireless. Rebecca decided that once her Papa was settled comfortably in his favourite armchair with a glass of scotch balanced in his hand, then it would be the right time to approach him with the subject of Tim, when her mother of course decided to intervene.

"Your father has more important things to be getting on with at the moment Rebecca!" Mary said with a severity to her voice. "He hasn't the time to run around after your silly crushes."

"Timmy is not a crush!" Rebecca retorted hotly.

"Oh so it's Timmy now is it?" Edward shot out from the corner of the room.

"Please let's not fight now!" Matthew snapped.

Everyone fell silent.

They didn't need telling twice.

Every evening the stranger on the other side of the wireless railed off new information about the turmoil issuing outside the boarders. And every evening the Crawley family would sit rigidly in their positions with baited breath, their heartbeats racing in unison as they waited to hear the name of Captain Joseph Matthew Crawley, also known courteously as The Right Honourable Joseph Crawley, Viscount of Downton, eldest son of the Earl and Countess of Grantham. If anything ever happened to him, they knew it would definitely send shockwaves through the society and make headlines.

Luckily, they never heard his name.

Nevertheless, they did hear a handful of other boys from the aristocracy being mentioned, sons of barons and knights which they had associated with but so far, none of their friends had been pinpointed. Yet.

Whenever the list of catastrophic events would wind down to a close, Mary would release a long sigh of relief at having made it through another day of writhing in pure agony, not knowing whether her son was alive, dead, injured or well. Whenever the stranger at the end of the wireless had signed off, she forced herself to take comfort in the fact that her beloved son had ploughed through yet another day of escaping that dreaded list which would tear so many families into pieces.

Lately, Joseph's letters had become less and less informative, so much so she remarked bitterly to Matthew why he even bothered writing to them at all. But then she felt sickened with herself. For God's sake she didn't know what he was going through, none of them did.

Except Matthew.

Matthew reclined in his armchair, breathing heavily as he listened, not moving a single muscle until he had heard every damn detail, every new update and every name on the missing person's list . His fingers tightened involuntarily around his crystal tumbler whenever the stranger on the end of the wireless piped the name, Captain or Lord. Once they had even heard the names Joseph and Crawley mentioned, though never together, thank God never together. And luckily for them, Downton wasn't even recognized once.

Matthew still didn't know what he'd do if he ever heard this – this stranger mention Joseph's name. All though he knew that the war office would have contacted them first, personally if anything had happened to his eldest child, he still couldn't shake off the fear that he would, one day, hear his name.

This is what it must be like for other families, Matthew thought in despair. If they weren't waiting to hear of their son's fate off a small slip of paper then they were waiting to hear about it second hand through a box in their house. How the hell was that fair on them? Whether they were upper class, middle class or working class, they were a family pining after their loved one and deserved to be treated with the same morsel of respect that his family was.

It still struck him how odd this whole situation was. How can this man just sit there, in his tiny box of a studio, droning off a list of names in a voice with all the emotion of a brick wall! They might just be names to him but for God's sake they were people! They were somebody's husband, or brother, or cousin…or son.

Matthew swallowed his building anxiety as the stranger signed off for the evening. They had made it through one more night. He threw a quick glance at Edward who hadn't taken his eyes off the box all evening. With him going off too, how many more nights like this could they suffice? How long would it be before one of them finally cracked?

Rebecca reached over and instinctively grabbed her father's hand. She could sense his mounting distress and longed to comfort him. Matthew loving welcomed her presence, giving her hand a strong squeeze. How odd it seems, that every morning they would start life as normal as they possibly could and then every evening they would end their day by torturing themselves, listening to some stranger tell them that their country was still suffering. It all seemed real once they listened to the news. Joseph isn't away at Cambridge. He's away at war, his life expectancy at the moment, is as fragile as bone china.

Her mind drifted to Tim. How she longed for his hand. Rebecca stared at her mother who was glowering at the wireless, as if she were longing to smash it into tiny pieces. The young girl realized then and there that it was times and moments like these when you need to seize what's important to you.

Seize it with both hands and never let it go.

* * *

><p>Captain Joseph Matthew Crawley sat huddled amongst his comrades around a small table in a tiny barn which was to be their shelter for the night. Placed upon the centre of the table was a small wireless which they had managed to beg off the owners. It was their only source of communication from home therefore each and every man, stared at it as if it were some kind of divine statue.<p>

Private Jasper Hanson fiddled with the dials on the wireless, trying to find the right frequency for the BBC while the others edged him on with impatience.

"Just leave the man alone will you?" Joseph ordered, growing quite impatient with the loud yells into his ear. He had had enough of that already thank you very much. "He can't do it with you all clucking over him all the time!"

"You'd better listen to Captain Crawley lads," Private Mark Wakeham drawled, pressing his cigarette to his lips whilst maintaining eye contact with Joseph, "When he gives orders we're supposed to listen to him. Even if we are off duty."

"A soldier is never off duty Wakeham," Private Harold Yates said defensively.

The door swung open, Private Louis Carmichael shuffled inside, rubbing his hands repeatedly. "Core blimey! It's so damn cold out tonight!"

"Well shut the door then you pillock!" Wakeham yelled.

Joseph shot him a scandalous look before turning his kind eyes to Carmichael, who was only sixteen. Edward's age. Joseph shifted up to allow him his seat. "Here Carmichael, you sit here next to others, their persistent agitation at getting that wireless working will have you warmed up in no time!"

"Well, isn't that kind of you Captain Crawley," Wakeham purred while Carmichael gratefully accepted Joseph's vacant seat. Wakeham glanced around the barn with a wrinkled nose, "I suppose this place must be like living in a shack compared to that big castle you live in."

Joseph chose to ignore that comment. He'd had enough of Wakeham's digs about him and his noble blood since the second he joined the army and he certainly wasn't going to retaliate now. 'Rise above it Joseph.' That's what his father would say to him if he were here now. Oh how he wished he could have his father's comforting words, a reassuring hand on his shoulder… a loving embrace...

Joseph's heart clenched painfully as he remembered the family he had left behind, waiting and praying for his safe return. He knew it was Edward's sixteenth birthday in a couple of days and the thought of his little brother out there, stationed in God knows where while he was still out here positively terrified him. As much as Edward pretended to harbour the careless attitude he was renowned for, Joseph knew exactly how he was really feeling.

"By the way are we supposed to call you Captain Crawley or Lord Crawley?" Private Wakeham asked acidly, puffing smoke into everyone's face.

"It's Lord Downton isn't it sir? Carmichael said through chattered teeth. "I think that's what my Mum said anyway, I could be wrong."

"No, no, you're not wrong." Joseph said quickly with a swift glance at Wakeham, "But you don't need to call me that here."

"How about my Lord?" Wakeham interjected smugly, "Can we call you my Lord instead? Captain?"

Joseph rolled his eyes, prepared to rise above the jealousy. He knew Wakeham was still sore about his inevitable position of being drafted in immediately as a Captain after switching from the RAF. Well, there was nothing he could've done about it. It wasn't his fault he was born to a name which commanded respect. Captain Crawley, Lord Downton, whoever he was supposed to be called, none of that mattered anymore now. He was eating and sleeping in the same conditions they were when they were together, why couldn't anyone see that?

He heaved an irritated sigh, "Just call me whatever you damn well want Wakeham as long as you leave me alone."

Wakeham narrowed his eyes, inhaling another gasp of smoke, "Is than order – Captain?"

"Wakeham shut up!" Hardy snapped, his ear pressed onto the wireless speaker, "We're trying to find a frequency and we can't do that with you blathering on like a little girl!"

As if it were all Joseph's fault, Wakeham shot him a deathly glare. Joseph twitched him a smile and tipped his flask of brandy down his throat, savouring the pleasant warmth it carried to his insides.

Wakeham jabbed at the flask, "Must be odd using tin instead of your usual jewel encrusted crystal goblets."

Everybody in the barn groaned in annoyance.

"Show Captain Crawley some respect." Yates hissed.

Wakeham stubbed out his cigarette with a growing smirk. "Or what?"

Joseph's hand curled into a tight fist.

"We have a signal gents, we have a signal!" Hanson announced with delight, every man broke out into applause. Joseph stretched out his hand, relieved that he hadn't actually acted on impulse and decked the man.

"Okay, okay lads hush!" Hardy leant closer to the wireless, "We probably have about five minutes before it fizzles out again."

The soldiers clustered together, their eyes glued to the speaker. Sometimes Joseph wandered whether it was even a good idea to listen to what was going on elsewhere in the world. It felt so strange to think that there was the same kind of chaos erupting in other countries when their own frontline seemed like the only place where war was lurking. He supposed, in their world it was. They may have been in France, Belgium or Timbucktoo for all he knew, yet every battlefield looked, smelled and felt the same.

Joseph rubbed his grubby hand over his tired face, thinking about his family once more. Only a few more months to go and then the war would be over. That's what Major Bellamy kept saying and that's what Joseph was clinging onto.

The war would be over soon….wouldn't it?

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	19. You're Sixteen

**Author's Note:**Well, here's the next update! Thank you all so much for the reviews, it really means a lot! Okay, this chapter is split into two - well sort of.

Someone asked if we could see more about Edward and you get your wish, as it's his birthday therefore this chapter is all about him! It deals with him growing up a little more, his role as 'the spare' child of the family and the introduction of someone new into his life. There's also the usual, drip, drip of Rebecca's storyline but there's more on that in the next chapter. Right now, Edward's our leading man.

So read and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 19 – You're Sixteen<strong>

**March 16th 1940**

Matthew Crawley carefully shifted his wife's arm off his chest so he could sidle out of bed. He hadn't been able to sleep at all. And he knew why. He needed to just see him, even for a minute.

Opening the door to their bedroom as silently as he possibly could, Matthew tiptoed out into the dimly lit hallway and found himself padding down the familiar route to the bachelor's corridor, pausing right outside Edward's room.

**_March 16th 1924_**

_Matthew paced back and forth in the drawing room of Downton Abbey, casting agitated glances at the clock._

_Violet watched the young man pace with an amused smirk. "You're going to wear a hole in that expensive carpet."_

_"Sorry Cousin Violet, I'm just feeling very – very…?" Matthew animatedly tried to use his hands to express the stream of emotions that was flowing through his mind right now._

_Luckily he was saved from any kind of verbal depiction, the door was flung open and Cora shuffled into the room, beaming._

_"It's a boy!" She breathed with glee. "A beautiful, perfect little boy!"_

_"A boy," Matthew repeated, completely overwhelmed with joy. "I have another son?"_

_"An heir and a spare!" Violet piped up, followed by a small chuckle._

_Robert heartily clapped his beloved heir on the back, "Congratulations my dear boy! Another son! Well that's more than I ever did!"_

**_March 16th 1929_**

_Matthew sat on the small rocking chair beside his bed, just watching him. He loved watching his son sleep. During the day he was always such a little monster, tearing around the house, bumping into everybody and enjoying all the chaos he caused around him. He just couldn't believe that he turned five today._

_Edward lay spread-eagled on his back, his little wisp of sandy hair fluttering in the light draft. His button nose twitched in his sleep, Matthew smiled fondly, longing to know what it was he dreamed about. The covers were bunched up and twisted at the foot of the bed. Matthew gently pulled them back up to cover his little boy who just rolled over in his sleep and kicked the covers back off._

Matthew pushed open the door as quietly as possible and stole into the room. The curtains were left wide open, allowing a small slice of moonlight to spill into the room. It had been so long since he had last watched him sleep and who knows if he'd ever get this chance again…

Creeping over to his son's bed, Matthew felt a strong weight of nostalgia twinging at his heart as he saw his now, sixteen year old son sprawled on his stomach, one arm dangling off the side of the bed, lips slightly parted. He was certainly much taller than a boy of his age and his features were growing more prominent day by day. Edward breathed deeply in his slumber, his cheek twitching irritably as if he was trying to ward off an irksome fly in his sleep.

Once again the bed sheets had become entangled in a complex puddle at the foot of the bed. Shaking his head with a soft smile, Matthew dragged the thick sheets back up to cover his son, patting it down gently to make sure he was well tucked in. Edward continued to doze peacefully in his stagnation, completely unaware of his father's presence.

One of the reasons why Matthew loved watching this particular child of his sleep was because it was the only time in the world when Edward was truly vulnerable. The mask of arrogance he paraded around to everyone was exactly that. A mask. Underneath Edward was just as defenceless as Benjamin. It had been different with Joseph. He was the eldest, the heir. When he had been old enough, Cousin Robert used to walk him around the grounds of Downton telling him that all of this would be his someday. But Edward was the second son, the spare as Cousin Violet had so eloquently put it. What chance did he have?

Now Edward was going off to war, Matthew couldn't help but think that he was willing to place himself in danger because he was no longer needed. Not really. Many a times after war had been announced, Edward had joked about the kind of Earl he would make if something were to happen to Joseph and he always expressed his underlying disdain about taking on such a role.

But they had Benjamin. He was much younger than the others and certainly wasn't going anywhere, so what was stopping Edward from doing something unthinkable, heroic or downright stupid. The thoughts had plagued Matthew all night. When Edward remained fifteen and underage his apathetic behaviour was tolerable. But now he's sixteen and there was no going back.

"Oh my boy," Matthew whispered in a voice of heart wrenching guilt at not having said this enough to him, "I do love you. I hope you know that."

Turning on his heel, Matthew snuck out of the room, throwing his son a quick glance one more time. Edward groaned in his sleep, flipping onto his back and roughly kicking the covers off him.

* * *

><p>The Crawley family were gathered together in the drawing room waiting in anticipation for Edward's birthday dinner. Mary had made it a big point in telling everyone that she had invited some special guests in honour of tonight but she wouldn't elaborate further, which is why all heads craned in anticipation as Cutler's presence graced the doorway.<p>

"Lord and Lady Doncaster and Lady Clarissa Deveroe."

Edward's jaw dropped. The Earl and Countess of Doncaster and their vibrant fifteen year old daughter marched into their drawing room. He rounded on his father in an accusatory manner but Matthew appeared to be just as shocked as he was, shooting an acid glower at his wife before plastering on a false smile and enthusiastically greeting his guests.

"And this must be the boy of the hour!" Lord Doncaster exclaimed, seizing Edward's hand and shaking it warmly. "Happy birthday my boy!"

"Thank you Lord Doncaster, it's a pleasure you could come." Edward greeted with a mechanic smile.

The Earl surveyed Edward with renewed approval, exchanging a pleased glance with his wife, not gone unnoticed by the whole room. Edward and Matthew resisted the strong urge to groan.

Lady Doncaster let out a small squeal, and greeted the girls with a quick kiss on the cheek, "Lady Georgina, Lady Rebecca, you both look so beautiful! My, my you both just keep on growing!"

"It only seems like yesterday when you were all running around Deveroe Manor, bumping into things and causing all kinds of trouble!" Lord Doncaster chuckled.

Edward shifted in embarrassment, looking from the Earl to Lady Clarissa, apologetically. "Yes, I am sorry about that cat. George and I were just trying to re-enact the nursery rhyme, you know, the cat in the well." He bit his lip awkwardly, "We didn't think she'd actually drown -"

"How is George doing?" Matthew interjected swiftly.

Lord Doncaster's stiffened but he managed a cool smile. "He's just moved from Sicily to Greece."

Matthew nodded in understanding. They didn't need to say anymore.

Lady Doncaster was then promptly whisked away by the ladies while Lord Doncaster remained glued to Matthew's side, much to his irascibility. Edward caught Clarissa shyly looking at him with her big, cerulean blue eyes. He heaved an inward sigh as he shuffled closer to engage her in polite, pointless conversation.

"I am rather sorry about the cat." He started as sincerely as he could, unable to look at her squarely in the eye without bursting out into peals of laughter at the memory.

Clarissa giggled, "Don't be, I never liked the thing anyway..."

While she talked, or rather chirped, Edward took the time to admire her features. There was nothing wrong in the way she looked, in fact she was very pretty and Edward could be pushed into saying he was attracted to her. But she was so…innocent, so very innocent and from the conversation they were having, she didn't seem to know very much about anything.

While they waited for the dinner announcement, the rest of the family fell into pleasant chatter, which Cora seized as an opportunity to usher her daughter away from Isobel and Lady Doncaster's heated conversation about war casualties. She pulled Mary to the corner of the room where she started to grill her about Rebecca's involvement with the pub landlord's son.

Mary gave her mother a tinkling laugh, struggling and nearly succeeding in concealing the fretfulness ridden in her face, "Really Mama, I never pegged you one for listening to idle gossip. You're as bad as Granny God rest her soul!"

Cora just glared at her, "Don't play games with me Mary, this isn't a joke. I may not be mistress of this house anymore but I am still the matriarch of the family and I need you to tell me the truth about what's going on in this house!"

Now it was Mary's turn to glare. "What makes you say anything's going on? Do you think I am incapable of protecting my own daughter's reputation? Or do you think that you could've done a better job in obscuring the repute of this house if you were still mistress?"

"As you may recall, I already did." Cora said coolly, causing Mary's cheeks to flush in anger.

Matthew threw a quizzical glance at her in the middle of his deep, political discussion with Lord Doncaster. He was curious to know why Mary was so upset and what Cora was saying to her to cause her eyes to flare like that. But then Lord Doncaster asked his verdict on the current situation in Finland, forcing Matthew to tear his eyes away and blandly express his opinion.

"So nothing's happened yet?" Cora pressed.

Mary rolled her eyes, "For the thousandth time, no, nothing has happened and for goodness sake, there won't be a yet, Mama because I know my daughter and she's given me her word."

Cora pulled her lips in and when she spoke, there was an edge of sadness clasped to her voice. "I thought I knew my daughters too. But you never can be sure of what they'll do. Daughters, they tend to surprise you in all the wrong ways."

Mary's eyes flicked to the window, the curtains, the fireplace, anywhere but her mother's eyes, wishing to be released from this uncomfortable conversation. "Yes – well, Rebecca's not me, or Sybil."

"Isn't she?" Cora asked quietly, shooting a glimmer at her young granddaughter who was laughing graciously with Lady Clarissa and Lady Doncaster. "She's nearly fourteen but she's established for her age, she may be quiet but she definitely has a mind of her own. Just like someone else I know. If you don't keep an eye on her, this will come to no good Mary, you mark my words."

Mary struggled to conceal the bubbling anger from rising to the surface. She didn't need to be told how to raise her own daughter thank you very much. So she took in her mother's warning with as much grace as she could muster. "Yes, well thank you for your – opinions Mama but like I said, you have nothing to worry about."

Cora didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Mary was carrying the burden of anxiety for the both of them. Mary turned away from her mother only to find herself face to face with her son.

"Edward?" She remarked in surprise, "How – how long have you been standing there."

Edward's eyes narrowed in mistrust. "What doesn't Grandmama have anything to worry about?"

Mary exchanged a hasty glance with her mother but covered it up quickly with a smile. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with.

Edward opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by Cutler announcing dinner. Instead his thoughts turned to the company at present. "Mama, why did you invited the Earl of Doncaster and his family? What are you trying to do?"

Mary's eyes twinkled mischievously but she feigned her innocence. "What makes you think I'm trying to do something?"

Edward tilted his head towards her in scepticism. "Mama?"

Mary lightly touched his arm, saying in a low voice, "Why don't you escort Lady Clarissa into the dining room?" She smirked at him and sauntered off.

Lady Clarissa nervously tucked a chestnut curl behind her ear, shooting him a furtive look. Edward groaned inwardly, twitched his cheek into a smile and offered her his arm. Her eyes brightening, she graciously accepted it and they strode into the dining room together.

* * *

><p>Edward prodded his fork into his chocolate gateaux, nipping it diligently and once again trying to pretend as though he were interested at the conversation at hand. Throughout the entire meal, Lady Doncaster either wouldn't or couldn't stop twittering on at how brave and highly noble Edward was to be sacrificing himself for his country, especially as he was going to be looking after the other soldiers and what a wonderful example he's setting to other boys of the aristocracy.<p>

Then Lord Doncaster added the final drop into the bucket of humiliation for the young boy by emphatically mentioning that all these characteristics would make him a fine husband to some lucky lady someday, actually shooting a wink at his only daughter who was seated next to Edward. He could feel his face burn in mortification, trying to release a flattered laugh but it came out more like a taut cough.

Now, they were all droning on about music in this generation and how extraordinary it's become over the years. Edward could feel himself writhing in discomfort with the simplicity of it all. He longed to be somewhere else, conversing properly with someone else but he couldn't. He was confined to his chair until the entire meal had finished.

Clarissa waited until everyone was fully engrossed in the conversation before leaning over to whisper to him, "Are you a jazz fan Edward?"

Edward shrugged, spearing whipped cream around his plate in boredom. "Personally, I enjoy listening to records but I wouldn't call myself a fan per say. I'm quite fond of American jazz, it's growing on me but probably not so much as my sisters. Mention the name Sinatra and they'll scream like idiots." The words were hardly out of his mouth when the girls broke into a cluster of shrill giggles and started raving about the man to the bemused table. Edward turned to his dinner partner with a quirked brow. "You see?"

Clarissa chuckled in admiration at Edward's blatant attitude, her cheeks flushing. "Would it be so terrible if I confessed that I love Sinatra too?"

"Not at all," Edward replied indifferently, "Everyone's entitled to love who they love." He glowered at his mother who was tittering delightfully with Lady Doncaster, "And who they don't."

They lapsed into a filled silence while the dessert dishes were cleared. Edward sipped some wine, wishing he could just down the glass in one. Clarissa shifted her body closer towards him. Edward shot her a surreptitious glance over the rim of his glass but made no further move to encourage her, his outstretched arm flexing in discomposure. Clarissa hesitantly rested her dainty hand on the arm; he almost jerked the glass away in his shock, nearly spilling his drink.

"I have to tell you how brave I think you are," She whispered with a sad smile, "George refuses to tell me anything, he never seems to want to talk about it."

"I understand." He responded tersely.

"Nevertheless, I've heard so many horror stories about what it's like in – in the - oh what do you call it?"

Edward stared at her. "Call it?"

"The special front?"

"You just call it the frontline," Edward said dryly.

"Well I'm so proud of you for going to the front line. Don't worry Edward, I'm sure everything will be just fine." Clarissa punctuated her sentence with another gleaming smile.

Edward released a low breath of disbelief. What kind of a world did this girl live in? He couldn't imagine his sisters ever being this vacant in the head, no matter how sheltered their lives were. Just when he was about to make a quip he'd very well end up regretting, Lord Doncaster saved him the embarrassment by asking him where he was to be stationed at.

"Oh, Egypt." Edward replied with less enthusiasm than he'd have liked. More and more now the reality of his forthcoming departure was becoming as clear as the night and not some heroic fantasy he had envisioned when he was a mere boy.

Clarissa released a sigh filled with longing. "Oh I'd love to go to Egypt someday!"

The whole table including Cutler gaped at her in shock.

Edward closed his eyes. Oh Jesus.

* * *

><p>After the Doncaster's had left, Mary hastily retreated into the small library pretending to tend to the unnecessary task of arranging a pile of books on a shelf. Edward waited until the others had retired before seeking her out.<p>

"Mama!" He growled, storming into the room.

Mary whipped around with a nervous smile, "Darling. Did you have a good birthday?"

Edward crossed his arms over his chest, "Oh I don't know. Except for the unexpected guests, I think I could say I had a reasonably good day."

"You mean the Earl and Countess of Doncaster?"

"Don't forget their little treasure of a daughter." Edward grumbled.

Mary's brow puckered. "Lady Clarissa? But she's such a wonderful girl!"

Edward scoffed,"Clouds have more weight than she does in her head!"

Mary's lips parted in surprise, "But you seemed to be getting on so well with her, you always have done."

"I get on well with Chestnut too, does that mean I want to marry him?" Edward shot back.

Mary flinched, "Right, you're upset. I should have told you I invited them for dinner-

"But then you knew I wouldn't turn up," Edward interrupted, his eyes growing small. "And you'd spent so much time planning the menu-"

"Now there's no need to take that tone!" Mary reprimanded, "Just because it's your birthday, that doesn't give you a reason to be rude!"

Matthew promptly breezed into the library, his face etched with concern, "Is something the matter?"

Edward raged at his father, "Papa did you know about Mama's mystery guests tonight?"

Matthew's demeanor cracked in understanding, "No," He answered with resolution, "I promise you I didn't."

Edward's anger wavered slightly. He turned back to his mother, his tone softer, "I'm sorry Mama. Lady Clarissa is a very beautiful, amiable and - beautiful girl but I don't really think she's the right girl for me."

"I know." Mary responded thinly.

"Then I don't understand? Why bring her here if you knew that anyway?"

"Edward, my darling, don't you think you could learn to love the girl if you just looked a bit deeper?" Mary's tone was desperate, almost pleading.

Edward pulled his lips into a thin, haughty line. "You know me Mama, once I have made my mind up about something, I have made it. Call me stubborn and I'll bear the label in honour. I'd never marry anyone if I was told to."

Mary stared at her son in utter shock. "Don't be too judgemental Edward," She whispered, "You might very well end up regretting it."

He shrugged off her warning, "I'm not interested. Now can we just leave it at that."

* * *

><p>"Well I thought that went swimmingly," Mary sighed, tugging the pins from her curls and letting them tumble around her shoulders.<p>

Matthew loosed his tie, "I'm not going to pretend that it's not your fault," He said in a slightly amused voice.

Mary opened her mouth to protest but her husband cut across her, "Now I'm not upset with you Mary, on the contrary I find it quite endearing in what you're trying to do for our son, but for God's sake I wish you would've told me."

"Would you have gone along with it if I had?" Mary responded with a coy smile.

Matthew quirked his brow at her with incredulity, "Is that a Crawley woman trait? Meddling in their youngster's affairs?"

Mary pouted at him, "If you're referring to Granny and Aunt Rosamund -"

"Not in so many words but - yes."

"Then I have to tell you that we do, what we do purely out of love." She spun around to face her husband, "Oh I know Aunt Rosamund can be a bitter old crow at times -"

Matthew chuckled darkly, "At times?"

"But Matthew you know as well as I do that Edward beholds a certain reputation." Mary said steadily.

Now she had his full attention.

Matthew pursed his lips, tapping his fingers on his knee in agitation.

"And I think it's high time he grew out of it." She added, turning back to her vanity mirror.

"So you think that by summoning up Lady Clarissa, she'll cast some kind of magic spell on our rogue son and he'll see the error of his ways?" Matthew asked sceptically.

"She's the only one who's willing to volunteer for the job," Mary replied absently, checking her faint lines in the reflection.

Matthew rolled his eyes, "You should have more faith in Edward you know. I know he might've lost his way in the past but he's sixteen now and - look Mary I know you don't like hearing this but he's off to Egypt soon. To fight like a man, the man's he's become overnight."

"Which is exactly why we can't keep making excuses for his uncouth behaviour!" Mary retorted, dragging her brush through her curls, "I'm telling you, what he needs is a nice girl who will stand by him through thick and thin. Someone he can call his sweetheart."

"But Edward's not interested in Clarissa though." Matthew said emphatically, "And don't you think she's got enough on her plate with George off in Greece? She shouldn't have to worry about Edward as well."

Mary stopped brushing her hair. She clutched it to her breast, turning around one more time to face her husband with a sad smile on her face. "But that's just it Matthew. She was the only girl that did worry about him."

* * *

><p>Edward lay on his back, staring impatiently at the canopy above his four-poster, waiting until the rest of the family were asleep before he made his escape. He didn't bother getting ready for bed, there was no point. So as soon as the clock struck eleven, he unlocked the small safe his father had installed in a panel behind his bed, extracting at least a hundred pounds in cash. He counted the money twice before stuffing it into his pockets, then he slipped on his shoes and padded downstairs as quietly as he could, stealing into the servants' quarters and exiting through the kitchen door. He deliberately left it on the latch so he was able to slip in early before any of the servants woke up. He didn't think he'd disturb anyone.<p>

There were hardly any servants in the house anyway except for the butler, the cook, the one ladies maid, the housekeeper and the woman chauffeur.

That was it.

The cool breeze of the night welcomed him. Edward ducked in between the thick bushes which lined the gravel path, his feet crunching hastily as he trotted off, the cash burning in his pocket. He couldn't suppress the smirk of glee at finally being free from the suffocation of the Abbey. At last, he thought with relish, now he could spend his birthday with proper company.

Unfortunately for Edward, he was so enraptured in making haste to his destination, he didn't notice the other young man hiking up the oak tree outside his little sister's bedroom.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	20. How We Survive

**Author's Note:**Hey, thanks again for ALL the reviews! It was like adrenaline for me which helped me get this chapter loaded up so keep em coming!

Anyway, this chapter picks up where we left off with Tim climbing outside Rebecca's window. Also, go on easy on our poor girl, she's gonna be put through a lot! ;)

Later on though, things start to get quite personal for the family and there's some more of that lovely Edward/Matthew, father/son bonding that only they can do. So warning, this chapter get's quite angsty at the end, I didn't think I'd cry writing it, but reading it over- I couldn't hold it in, much like our Crawley's.

So read and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20 – How We Survive<strong>

Rebecca Crawley tucked her leather bookmark neatly between the thick leaves of Jane Austen's 'Emma,' a book she had read at least thirty times. Placing the beloved novel on her bedside, she clicked off the light and shimmied underneath the warm covers. Just as she felt the celestial slumber begin to claim her, she was jolted awake by the familiar sound of pebbles smacking her bedroom window.

She groaned, crawling quickly out of bed, ripping the drapes apart and sliding the window up. Rebecca sighed as she saw Tim's grinning face, his body reclining comfortably on the oak tree.

"You can't keep doing this Tim." She said in a voice tinged with annoyance, "Someone will see and then I'll be the one that gets a rollicking!"

"I won't let that happen to you." Tim paused, daring his next question. "Can I come in?"

"No!"

He pouted. "Why not?"

Rebecca surreptitiously covered herself up with the thick drapery, "If anyone so much as got wind of this, I'd be ruined forever! It's inappropriate! "

Tim's lips spread into a wide smirk. "Really? And yet, here you are, talking to me, revealing all."

She promptly clutched the draperies closer to her breast, her cheeks flushing. "I am not! I didn't have time to put on my robe because you wouldn't let up, throwing stones at my window!"

"It's the only way to get your attention!" Tim protested.

"And what about the guard dogs?"

Tim quirked his eyebrow at her. "All the more reason to let me in. If you value my life that is."

Rebecca glared at him, "Oh no, don't you try that one with me! You deserve to be ripped to shreds anyway!"

"Harsh!"

"Honestly, what are you thinking Timmy? What if my father saw you, or worse yet – my brother!"

Tim just scoffed, "That's why I took my chances. I knew your brother wouldn't be at home tonight."

Rebecca frowned, "What do you mean? Of course he's home, he's in his room."

Tim opened his mouth to contradict her but he faltered as soon as he caught her trusting, brown orbs shimmering magnificently in the moonlight. He shook his head. "Never mind."

Rebecca slowly shuffled out from behind the drapery though making sure to keep her bosom well hidden. "Why are you always here Tim?" She asked in soft voice, merely a whisper.

His hazel-green eyes flicked to her in surprise. "I'd have thought that was obvious by now Rebecca. I'm always here because I think – I think I love you."

Rebecca sucked in her breath, her heart beating so erratically she thought it would burst. They didn't say a word. For the longest time they just gazed at each other, recovering from the shock of Tim's revelation. Finally, Rebecca broke the heavy silence, saying softly. "We're so young, don't you think?"

Tim shrugged, "We're the same age as Romeo and Juliet were."

Rebecca giggled at that, "Yes and look how they ended up!"

His eyes grew defiant, "I don't think you should keep thinking about how things would end up. If two people love each other then they should be together, no matter what their families think. Do you feel the same about me?"

Rebecca hesitated, biting her lip in comprehension.

"Rebecca do you?" He pushed.

"I want to say it back to you Timmy," She gushed, "But I'm just thinking about my family. They'll never, ever approve. I'm the daughter of an Earl and you're…"

"Just a pub landlord's son." Tim finished in a voice dripping with ice.

"No!" Rebecca countered hotly, "I don't care whose son you are. You're everything I'd ever want and more. But my family won't see it that way, I'm telling you Tim they won't."

"Well, I'm sure once they see how happy you are, they'll change their mind." Tim said in reassurance. "And if they don't, there are always other alternatives to make them listen."

Rebecca narrowed her eyes curiously, "Such as?"

Tim raised his brow at her. "Just let me worry about that."

"But I want to know what you meant -" She was swiftly interrupted by the distant sounds of barking growing closer. Rebecca grinned with self-satisfaction. "Oh, look it's your friends."

Tim groaned impatiently, "Oh for God's sake!" He made a move to swing down from the tree, one hand resting on the branch, he turned back to Rebecca. "Last chance to let me in?"

She just folded her arms up haughtily, "Try not to get eaten."

Tim released an exasperated laugh before quickly swinging down from the tree. Once he hit the bottom he blew a kiss to her and took off running.

Rebecca let her demeanour fall. She reclined against the window frame breathing a sigh of complete and utter elation. Tim said he loved her! He loved her! Never did she think this would happen to her, but it has! There was of course the dark foreshadowing of his departure looming at the back of her mind put she pushed such thoughts out of her head. No, she'd not think about that. She was going to live for the here and now.

The sharp knock at the door jolted Rebecca out of her day-dream.

"Rebecca?" Her mother's airy voice echoed outside her room door, "Darling who are you talking to?"

"No one Mama!" Rebecca said hastily, darting back into bed. She pulled the covers up to her chin. "I must've been dreaming."

Mary opened the door and strode into the room, staring around, everything about her poise simply screamed suspicion. The light flutter of the curtains and her own nightdress billowing in the breeze snapped Mary's attention to the window.

"What on earth?" She scurried to the window and pulled it back down, "Why is the window open? You'll catch your death!"

"I was feeling hot and must've forgotten to close it before I drifted off," Rebecca lied as innocently as she could, mentally slapping herself for not being more careful.

"Mmm." Mary pursed her lips, eyeing the room doubtfully. Unexpectedly her own mother's words from this evening came crashing back to haunt her. Mary rubbed her forehead in agitation. "Darling," She said suddenly, sitting on her daughter's bed and reaching for her hand. "If there was something wrong you would tell me wouldn't you?"

Rebecca's eyes widened in surprise, "Well – I suppose. But nothing's wrong Mama."

"But if there was, you would tell me? Wouldn't you?" Mary pressed, her eyes round and her voice on the brink of hysteria. Her fingers were practically digging into Rebecca's skin.

Rebecca nodded mechanically, prising her mother's fingers out of her flesh. "Yes Mama. Definitely, if there was something wrong you'll be the first to know."

Mary breathed a sigh of relief, warmth and the familiar love flooding back into her eyes, "Thank you darling. You are such a good girl Rebecca, far too grown up for your age." She reached over to press a kiss to her daughter's forehead, smoothing out her golden curls which fanned her angelic face. "But don't grow up too fast all right?"

Rebecca didn't answer, just rubbed her arm and smiled in response.

* * *

><p><strong><em>March 17th 1940<em>**

**_2:30am_**

Edward squinted through the wisps of cigar smoke at the young man sat opposite him. He checked his cards, clutched between his fingers, his heart thumping with every second, and adrenaline coursing through his body. He carefully arranged his face into a look of what he hoped was shock, turned to disappointment, keeping the rest of his face as stoic as possible. Edward flicked his eyes towards his opponent and forced a cheerful smile.

His opponent indicated to him with a smirk that he lay his cards out first. Edward obliged him, confidently turning over each card in his hand. Reclining back in his chair, he waved his hand to let his opponent do the same.

His opponent's face fell.

Edward's heart raced in anticipation. Then his rival produced out of nowhere, a royal flush which might as well have been conjured out of thin air.

"In your honour – sir." He said with a grin.

Edward's jaw dropped. The entire audience huddled around them either cheered or groaned in disappointment, clapping Edward on the back in commiseration. He roughly shook off their gestures of pity, reaching for his scotch and downing the glass like it was water.

"I don't understand," Edward said steadily, the alcohol swiftly flooding straight to his brain, "I didn't do anything that I haven't done before," He stared at the table now littered with cards and the sacred money as though he were trying to find some reasonable answer for his sudden losing streak, "What happened?"

"You just haven't played this one before!" Bernie McNeil said heartily, clapping the rival on the back in congratulations. Edward scowled and signalled for another drink.

The champion of the game, proudly started to scrape his winnings towards him but an abrupt hand clamped over his, he glanced up in surprise to see his rival leering toward him.

"One day," Edward whispered menacingly into his ear, "One day someone's going to put you in your place."

The rival twitched his cheek into a sneer and spoke back calmly. "Oh somebody already has. I think you might know her, goes by the name of Lady Rebecca, you might call her your sister."

Edward sucked in a sharp breath, eyes growing wide and deranged. "You?"

Timothy Alexander yanked his hand from underneath Edward's vice-like grip, continuing to taunt the poor boy and clearly enjoying the effect, "And let me tell you she's quite the - performer." Edward drew back, his eyes glazing over. Tim laughed affectionately, sending sparks of rage sizzling through the young Crawley. "Yeah, I tell you, the things that girl can do with a hand, I've never experienced anything like it before."

"You're lying." Edward snarled.

"Am I?" Tim shot him a smile full of conceitedness, it forced Edward's fist into a curl. "Am I really?"

Edward turned around, making a motion to leave then completely taking everyone off guard he swayed back, this time bringing his arm round full swing and smashing his fist right into Tim's jaw. Tim stumbled back into the arms of the rowdy crowd, they caught him in surprise, releasing cries of disbelief.

For the longest time they seemed to glare at each other. Then with an animalistic cry Tim lurched himself towards Edward headlong, knocking him back onto the tables, they rolled off and crashed to the floor, trying to punch anything they could find on each other.

"Stop! Stop, it you two!" Tim's father swiftly picked his way through the throng of people clustered around the fighting couple. John Alexander lifted his son off the Earl's son, muttering furiously in his ear, "What's wrong with you boy? Don't you know who that is you're pounding on?"

"I don't care!" Tim spat, breathing like an enraged bull, his eyes throwing daggers at Edward. "Just because he lives like a prince doesn't mean he's better than the rest of us! I won that game fair and square!"

"You stay away!" Edward growled, trying to break free from his restraint, drops of blood spurting forth from his lip.

"Or what?"

"Get up those bloody stairs, you stupid boy!" John grabbed his son's collar and forced him away, Tim craned his neck to glower one more time at Edward who drew his hand across his bloody mouth and grinned.

* * *

><p><em><strong>10:23am<strong>_

Edward rose late the next morning to a splitting headache and the sound of Benjamin tearing down the corridor, yelling at the top of his voice. The memory of the ruckus caused last night came screaming back to him. It was a miracle he managed to find his way back home and in the right room. Groaning, he flipped on his back and pulled the covers up over his head, trying to block out the incessant banging sound.

"Edward Samuel Crawley it is past ten o'clock!" Mary chided, rapping on her son's room door, "We have to be at church in less than an hour, get up and get dressed now!"

"Fine!" Edward called back in a hoarse voice, "Just give me a minute."

"No, now!"

Cursing, Edward stumbled out of bed clutching his sore head. While he attended the bathroom he noticed with an unpleasant jolt that his antics from the night before caused a large swelling just below his right eye and a small scratch on his bottom lip where it had split.

"Damn him!" He cussed, cramming on a hat as low as he could to try and cover it up.

His hopes for discretion however, were thwarted for he collided into his father on the way downstairs.

"You're late…" Matthew frowned, instinctively noticing his son's rigid demeanour. Before Edward could dart past him, Matthew knocked his hat off, revealing the shiner in all its glory.

"Papa…"

Matthew grabbed his son's chin and tilted it up towards the light, examining the bruise. "What in God's name happened to you?"

"It's nothing Papa," Edward dismissed, wrenching his chin away, "I just had an accident riding Chestnut that's all."

"An accident?" Matthew countered, eyeing his son with growing anger. "You must think I was born yesterday,"

Edward scoffed, "Not really."

"You were out last night weren't you?" Matthew said in disbelief, his anger simmering just below boiling point. "How much did you lose?"

"Papa -"

"How much?"

The harsh tone of his father forced Edward to swallow his false smile. He stared shamefully at the floor, "About a hundred pounds."

The Earl's eyes snapped shut and he released a low breath of anger, trying to calm himself down before he actually exploded and punched his son out of sheer fustration. Never had Matthew ever raised so much as a finger to any of his children, even Edward, no matter what he did. However, Matthew felt his patience being tested more and more, teetering on the brink of destruction.

He rubbed the purple stain under his son's eye, "Has your mother seen this?"

"No." Edward answered quietly.

Matthew straightened himself up, "Who did this to you?"

Edward twitched his cheek into a smirk, "Let's just say I gave as good as I got."

Matthew released a cry of rage, actually kicking the bannister in his wrath, "My God Edward! To think I actually defend you!"

"I never ask you too!" Edward retorted, his cheeks flushing in humiliation.

Matthew tilted his head to the side, "No but I do it anyway because I'm your father and it's my responsibility!"

"Oh leave me alone!" Edward roughly made to push past him but Matthew grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against the wall, holding his arm across his son's chest like a barrier. Edward's eyes widened in brief shock at his father's sudden outrage but he angrily struggled to break free.

"Now you listen to me," Matthew breathed into his son's ear, "Your mother has given her life, blood and soul into you children and this is how you repay her? You know how anguished she is over Joe and yet you still continue to run rogue. Now, if you're determined to spend your days as a renegade that's your choice. But your behaviour is breaking your mother's heart and that is something I won't stand for under my roof do you hear me?"

Edward snorted, "Well it's a good job I'm not going to be under your roof for much longer isn't it?"

Matthew tightened his grip on his son's shirt, his blue eyes growing round with rage, the blood flooding freely to his cheeks, "This is not a game Edward. Egypt isn't a holiday, soldiers' lives are depending on you."

"I know that!" Edward hissed. "Why do you think I'm breaking my brain every night trying to memorize every form of antibiotics? For enjoyment?"

"Just sharpen up and for God's sake stop acting like a child!" Matthew reprimanded, releasing his son and backing off.

Edward adjusted his now creased shirt, both of them still breathing quite heavily. The hurried patter of footsteps forced them to straighten up sharply.

"There you two are!" Mary called in relief, appearing at the foot of the staircase. She gazed up at them in annoyance, "Stop loitering you two, we have to be at church now! How is it going to look if the Earl and Countess of Grantham are late!"

Matthew forced his lips into a smile. "We're coming darling."

Mary rolled her eyes and scurried off, leaving both father and son to stand awkwardly together. Matthew thrust Edward's cap back into his chest, "It's not suitable but I don't want anyone seeing that." He said frostily, pointing to the bruise, "There'll be enough gossip as it is."

Matthew galloped downstairs, leaving Edward to scowl after him. The sooner he was free, the better.

* * *

><p><em>"I will hold, your people in my heart."<em>

The last note of the beloved hymn faded away. Mary and Cora both wiped away a small tear from the corner of their eyes, remembering how they sang this very song at Robert's funeral. Somehow, it reminded Mary about Joseph and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying again.

Her husband squeezed her hand in reassurance; she smiled gratefully at him, noticing his stoic behaviour. She glanced at Edward who was seated furthest away from the family, a cap pulled low over his eyes. Mary thought it absolutely unsuitable to wear such an article of clothing at church but Matthew insisted she leave him alone. He seemed to be quite clear and curt about that. Mary sighed; they must have had another row.

Father Stevens pulled himself to his feet and shuffled towards the pew, ready to address his congregation. His face was a mask of sympathy and sorrow. Mary's heartbeat quickened, what happened?

"Ladies and Gentlemen, friends," He said in despair, throwing his arms out wide. "I'm afraid I have some disconcerting news to report."

Never had a room of animated people, stilled so suddenly.

Matthew's hand gripped Mary's tighter.

"You see, I'm sure you're all aware of young Jack Andrews, or Private Jack Andrews I suppose I should say." Father Stevens mumbled, clearly antagonizing himself for having to deliver this piece of news. "Well, his parents Eugene and Adaline received a telegram from the war office this very morning."

The entire congregation were holding their breath, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"And it falls upon me to tell you that young Private Andrews has been called home to our Lord."

There was a scream of shock from some of the women in the congregation following Father Steven's last words. Mary clapped her hand to her mouth, the kerbed tears she had been trying to suppress broke free like a dam, streaming down her face. Oh God, not Jack Andrews! Little Jack? She knew the Andrews well, she had visited their confectionary shop on numerous occasions with her children. And she of course knew Jack, she had practically watched him grow up, running around the grounds and the village with her Joseph. Now he was dead, his life over for good… he was only twenty for God's sake!

Georgina and Rebecca both sat paralyzed in utter shock, tears meandering down their cheeks while mutters of fury and anguish buzzed around them. Wasn't it just last month they had been talking to Mrs Andrews about Jack being called up? And how upset Mr Andrews had been? Oh God, that poor family. Benjamin vaguely understood what had happened, he knew where the Lord's home was but he couldn't understand how Jack had got there.

Stunned, Matthew shut his eyes, trying with all his might not to picture young Jack's bright and cheerful face, welcoming him into the confectionary shop, conversing with Joseph like old friends, the class barrier between them, completely non-existent. This morning he had read about the first British civilian casualties in the German air raid of Scapa Flow and now he had heard about a young man's death. Not just any young man, the son of a well-known and respected family in the community.

War had claimed Downton's first victim and the entire community was in an uproar of sorrow.

Father Stevens stood by silently and watched as grief collapsed all around his congregation. He found eye contact with Lady Mary and tried to give her a reassuring smile but she just tore her head away and buried it into her husband' shoulder completely distraught. There was no such thing as dignity or propriety anymore, not when a loved one had practically been murdered. That's what it was wasnt it? Murder.

Rebecca absently glanced around the church, suddenly catching Tim's eye. He was seated with his parents in the pew a few rows down from her. As soon as his eyes met hers, he shook his head sadly. She felt a twinge of affection in her heart and turned back.

Edward didn't know how to react. He had known Jack well; him and Joseph had always been good friends. The news of his death, someone he knew had hit him harder than he could stand. His mind was completely blank, shockwaves engulfing him with every second.

* * *

><p>"We have to go and pay our respects." Georgina stated firmly, as soon as they set foot outside the church. The service had been long and painful, spending most of it reflecting the life and legacy Jack had left behind and sending prayers and kind thoughts to the Andrews family.<p>

"Of course dear," Cora said softly when Mary didn't answer. She encircled an arm around her granddaughter. "We'll just wait a little while until the - the news has settled in. It must be such a terrible ordeal for that poor couple... their only son."

While clutching onto the small hand of her youngest grandson, Isobel slowly turned to her only son, saying with tender emphasis, "Someone will need to tell Joseph."

Matthew swallowed, his heart clenching with anguish at the prospect of doing such a task. "I'm not sure he could handle such news right now Mother."

"He'd want to hear it from you rather than second hand Matthew," Isobel replied, her voice a little stern.

Matthew stared at her before nodding dejectedly. "Of course Mama, you're right."

"What are you going to say to him Papa?" Georgina asked, patting her father's arm with care.

Matthew forced a small smile for his darling daughter before saying evenly, "I'll try and break the news to him as gently as I possibly can." He desperately tried not to picture his eldest son's face when he read the letter, informing him of his friend's death. He looked down at little Benjamin, staring up at him with innocent, confused eyes. Matthew rested his hand on his little head, stroking his hair affectionately, while he turned his concerned gaze to his wife who was just staring into the distance.

"We still don't even know what happened." Rebecca said quietly.

Isobel pulled her into a hug, "Shh. Don't try and think about that now love. We need to focus all our thoughts and prayers to his family, they need it at a time like this."

Rebecca didn't reply. To think, just in the early hours of this morning she had been laughing and flirting with Tim, falling head over heels for the boy and now she'd received news about Jack's death. She felt quite disgusted with herself for displaying such antics when Jack was lying dead in – God only knows where.

If Rebecca was feeling sickened with herself then Edward was feeling it ten times fold. While he had been gambling and fighting with Rebecca's worthless beau, one of his good friends was dying so children like Benjamin could have a proper future. He released a low sigh, grinding his teeth to channel the repugnance he felt surging through him.

Mary's mind had completely drifted off track while she stared forlornly into the distance, her fingers twitching in anxiety. That announcement could easily have been about Joseph, easily.

"Mary? Dear?" Her mother's voice jolted her back to her senses.

"Sorry Mama. I was miles away," Mary said in a frail voice.

"I was just asking what we should take with us when we go and pay our respects to the Andrews. Something memorable. What do you think would suffice?"

_**July 31st 1927**_

_"It won't work!" Three year old Edward Crawley stamped his foot in frustration, hurling his kite on the ground. "It's broken!"_

_Mary closed her eyes tolerantly, picking up the rejected kite, "Eddie, you have to be patient darling. Just wait for the wind and then you'll be able to fly your kite."_

_Her son just pouted, "Where's Joe and Jack? And Papa? Where did they go?"_

_"They went to watch the local cricket match darling," Mary said absently, dusting mud off her toddler's cuffs. "Now, do you want to try again?"_

_But Edward's attention was focused on the three figures scurrying towards him, waving their arms in recognition._

_"Look Mama, it's them!" Edward yelled, pointing at them._

_Mary's eyes brightened in anticipation, "They're back from the match! Come on! Let's go and see who won!" She grabbed her son's hand and giggling, they ran towards the boys._

_"Downton won Mama! Downton won!" Joseph chorused, meeting them half-way towards the house._

_Mary laughed, "Oh Good!"_

_"How's the kite flying coming along?" Matthew asked, fondly picking up his three year old._

_Edward puckered his brow, wrapping his little arms around his father's neck. "It's broken Papa!"_

_His father's face fell slightly and he bounced his son delicately. "Oh don't worry Eddie, we'll soon get it fixed up in no time."_

_Mary rolled her eyes, "There's nothing wrong with the kite, there's not enough wind."_

_"Oh!" Matthew laughed, placing a warm kiss on his disgruntled son's forehead. "That's no problem!"_

_Edward's face grew hot as he glowered at his mother, "No, no, no Mama! It's broken!" He turned to his father to protest, "Really Papa, the kite is broken!"_

_Mary turned her attention back to the two older boys. "Well I hope you all enjoyed yourselves!"_

_Jack nodded shyly, "We did Lady Mary." He unlocked his hands which were clutched tightly around a neatly wrapped package and presented it to her, "Mama sent you all some of her honeycomb as a thank you for taking me to the cricket match!"_

_Mary's face melted into compassion, "Oh Jack darling she didn't need to do that, it was a pleasure, really!"_

_"I like your Mama's honeycomb!" Joseph said with enthusiasm._

_"She said she'll show you how to make it if you want," Jack added to Mary, shuffling bashfully._

_"You know Jack, I think I might hold her to that," Mary said with a heartfelt smile._

_"Yes, yes Mama!" Joseph nodded, his blue eyes widening, "Then we can eat it all the time!"_

_"Don't you think you'll get sick of it Joe?" Matthew asked in amusement._

_"No!" Joseph replied defiantly, "Honeycomb is my favourite food in the world now!"_

_Matthew chuckled, "In the world?"_

_"Mine too Mr Crawley!" Jack said earnestly._

_"I like it this much!" Joseph held his little arms out as wide as he could._

_"Well I like it this much!" Jack tried to spread his arms out wider than Joseph's, both boys laughing as they competed for the title of honeycomb lover._

_"Then why not eat some now then!" Mary announced, beckoning them to follow her into the house. They cheered and raced each other up to the Abbey._

"Honeycomb." Mary said instantly, exchanging a soft glance with Matthew, her lips quivering at the memory. "We'll bring them some honeycomb and I'll make it from scratch."

Matthew touched her cheek lovingly, tears pooling the corners of his eyes,"I think Jack would've really appreciated that. I think he would've wanted that."

* * *

><p><em>to be continued..<em>


	21. Intervention

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, thanks once again for all the reviews, I sat right down and began tapping away at this next chapter!

So this chapter is following on from the last one and Matthew finally meets Tim and realizes they share an odd connection which brings back some of his own ghosts from the past! Also, a familiar face is mentioned towards the end.

So read and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21 - Intervention<strong>

_**March 29th 1940**_

Matthew Crawley remained rigidly in his study chair, glaring at the headline which screamed from the front page of his newspaper. 'Britain and France unite in peace agreement against Germany!' Underneath was a large caricature of what was supposed to be Britain and France linking arms and smoking cigars. He sighed heavily, pushing the paper away with disgust. What had this country become? Since when was this war supposed to be a joke?

During the past week and a half following the news of Jack's death, the whole village had lapsed into mourning, flooding their sympathy towards the Andrews family. When the Crawley's had visited, Isobel and Cora had to practically help Mrs Andrews to the chair, she was so grief stricken and Mr Andrews wouldn't even leave his bedroom, not even for the Earl, Countess and Dowager Countess of Grantham. At Jack's funeral, all Matthew and Mary could think about was their own sons, seeing the coffin being lowered into the cold, damp earth, just brought them painful and excruciating images of Joseph and Edward. Watching Jack's mother scream in agony, collapsing into her husband's arms brought tears to both their eyes. Nobody understood the prospect of losing a son like they did.

They couldn't help it.

It was almost like they were waiting for the inevitable to happen. Why was that?

Footsteps pattering outside his study followed by a hasty knock, forced Matthew to straighten up and look sharp.

"Come in."

The door opened followed by Rebecca who slipped into the room with a shy yet determined look etched all over her face. Matthew's heartbeat quickened.

"Oh dear," He joked, "I fear I'm about to be approached for something unpleasant."

Rebecca shook her head, "No Papa, it's not unpleasant, not to me anyway." She swallowed nervously before continuing, "I've waited and waited for the right time to ask you but there's always something… anyway, I want you to meet Tim Papa."

Matthew's stomach plummeted, "Darling -!"

"Please," She begged, "Just talk to him and give him a chance. Please Papa, I know you'll come to love him as much as I do!"

Matthew's head snapped up, a sickening feeling churning in the pit of his stomach. "You – you love him?" He choked.

Rebecca blushed; she timidly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from. It just slipped out, sorry Papa."

Matthew swallowed in order to stop the frantic racing of his heart. He gradually rose from his chair so he could move around the table which acted as a barrier between them, and envelope his daughter into a warm and loving embrace.

"Rebecca, darling you're so young." He stoked her soft curls; they still felt like strands of golden silk beneath his fingertips. "You may think you're in love and this is the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with," He pulled away so he could look at her properly, "But life doesn't always turn out the way we plan when we're only what? Thirteen? Fourteen? Hasn't Jack's death taught you that?"

Rebecca frowned, "Actually it's taught me much more. It's taught me that we have to make the most of what we want while we still can and I want to do that, more than anything."

"But Rebecca please think about it!" Matthew tried not to make his tone sound like he was pleading with her but he failed miserably on that score, "He's fifteen going on sixteen, probably going to be conscripted soon and you're nearly fourteen, just blossoming into your own life. There's still so much you need to learn. Perhaps you mistook his friendship for something more -"

"No!" Rebecca retorted, her brown eyes shimmering with defiance, reminding Matthew forcibly of Mary. "I haven't mistaken anything, Papa he loves me, he told me so himself."

"He told you?" Matthew countered, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, "Well, when did he say that?"

Rebecca faltered. Perhaps blurting out to her father that her beau had pledged his love to her, whilst hanging from a tree, outside her bedroom window, in the dead of the night wasn't the best way to win his approval. "Oh well – he told me a while ago, but like I said Papa, it's taken so long to tell you."

Matthew chewed on his lip, his mind whirring with endless solutions to this – problem. "All right then." His voice was so calm he surprised even himself. "Sunday afternoon then. After church, I'll talk to him then."

Happiness and relief flooded Rebecca's angelic face; she threw her arms around her father's waist, "Oh thank you Papa! I – I promise you, you won't be disappointed!"

Matthew grimaced. Oh how many times had he heard that in his lifetime?

* * *

><p><em><strong>March 31st 1940<strong>_

Matthew and Tim sat opposite each other.

Neither of them had said a word.

Matthew was surveying the young man before him with such an intense gaze that Tim actually began to feel the nervous beads of sweat trickle down the side of his neck. He longed to loosen his tie which felt like a noose around his neck but he willed himself to remain composed. For Rebecca's sake.

From the moment he had set foot inside Downton Abbey, he immediately had second thoughts. The room they were seated in now, the plush furniture, the rich decor, the fancy woodwork, all must've cost pennies to them yet it would've fed his entire family for a whole year.

Finally Matthew rose to his feet and lifted his decanter of scotch out of the hold hall. He turned to the younger man with a slightly apologetic look. "I'd offer you a glass but you are still only fifteen." He hadn't meant to sound patronising but it was of course the truth.

Tim just waved it away. "No problem sir."

Matthew rubbed his temple, "Look - Timothy, I'm not going to beat around the bush. I hate beating around bushes. So I'm just going to ask you straightforward." he turned towards the younger man. "Do you believe yourself to be in love with my daughter?"

Tim stared at the man before him with stunned eyes. "With all due respect Lord Grantham but I don't believe myself to be in love with your daughter." He broke away, gathering his composure to reveal the truth which he had been harbouring for months now. "I know I am in love with her."

Matthew released a long awaited sigh of disappointment. "My dear boy. I don't think you're aware of the situation here?"

"Oh of course I am!" Tim said quickly, "I don't know what Re - Lady Rebecca as told you about me but, I do give myself some credit. I've never mentioned this to anyone before but my great-grandmother was the daughter of a baronet."

"Really?" Matthew asked, completely taken aback.

Tim nodded. "She was his only daughter and she made the apparent mistake of marrying for love. To someone whom her family did not approve of. But even though she was brought up to think a certain way, she still followed her heart and married him anyway because he was patient enough to wait for her to make her mind up."

Matthew turned away from the young man, desperate to hide his burning guilt of a conversation he had once had with a certain lady many years ago.

"So you see Lord Grantham," Tim continued with a smile, "I don't believe in rank or social standing. Especially now we are in the middle of a war."

"Which brings me to my main point," Matthew said steadily, spinning back around. "Personally I don't care if you were the son of a Prince or a linen draper. My daughter has got it into her head that once the war is over, you intend on marrying her. Is that true?"

Tim swallowed. "If I make it through the war in one piece then of course I will marry her, as soon as she's sixteen. With your blessing of course!" he added hastily.

Matthew narrowed his eyes. It was time for honesty now, once and for all. "Timothy, there is nothing I want more in the world than for my children to be happy. It's what any parent, any father wants. It's what I've wanted for them since the second I knew about them. But now my sons have volunteered to fight, one's off in France, one's going off to Egypt and the only children I'll have left to cling onto is my little boy and my daughters. Lady Rebecca is a smart, intelligent and headstrong girl, mature for her age, yes I know that. But even if she is nearly fourteen, she's still trying to find her place in the world and whether you're a soldier or not, you my boy are still very young for your age. It does pain me to see you - a bright young boy with your whole future ahead of you; going off to fight in this abhorrent disaster we call a war. So I ask you, why put your future happiness as well as my daughter's at risk like that?"

Tim just gaped at him. "Lord Grantham Rebe - Lady Rebecca is all I have left to cling onto to get me through this in one piece."

Matthew had to turn away one more time. His eyes began to burn as he thought of a small stuffed toy perched prominently on his tiny desk in a bunker...

"And if that means putting our feelings at risk then it's a risk I'm willing to take if it means we can be together and I know Rebecca's willing to risk it too! I have no doubts about her feelings for me and she knows how I feel about her."

Oh he was winning.

Matthew had to give him credit. There was no doubt that he did genuinely love his Rebecca and had he been an ordinary father then he would have happily bestowed his blessing upon the pair of them. But he was the Earl of Grantham and Rebecca was not just any daughter. She had responsibilities to the family too, no matter how much Matthew tried to shy his children away from the corrupt life of the aristocracy there would always come a time when he had to finally accept who they were meant to be.

That time was now.

After socializing with the nobility and upper class, being a part of it for many years, he knew that if Rebecca tied herself down to this young man at such a young age and he didn't make it through the war, then her entire future reputation would be teetering on the brink of destruction. It was in that moment, Matthew realised just how much pain the gentry had to suffer through in order to fulfill their - duty.

'_Are you a creature of duty?_'

Mary's words came to haunt him one more time as he turned around slowly to face his daughter's beloved with a sickening feeling settling into his chest at what he was about to do.

'God forgive me,' he silently begged before swallowing with apprehension. At first he faltered, drinking in Timothy's innocent demeanour, God Rebecca would hate him for this. But then if life decided to do a complete one-eighty on them, as it always seemed to do, then she would hate him if he didn't and it was this thought which pushed the next words out of his mouth.

"Timothy. I completely understand your affections for my daughter. However I must ask you in the most, gentle way possible to forget her. And move on."

Matthew possessed a morsel of enough courage to maintain eye contact with this young man as he shattered his dreams into a million pieces. He could understand the feeling only too well. If Robert had stood where he was now, saying the things he was saying to himself as supposed to this stranger, then he too would feel utterly heartbroken.

"But - but Lord Grantham I can't!" Tim stuttered, "I don't think I can ever forget her."

Again, Matthew understood. It wasn't easy to forget your first love but in these situations, circumstances had to be made. He sauntered over to the young man and placed a hand on his shoulder, saying with as much sincerity as he could muster. "You must Timothy. It isn't easy I know, believe me I know more than you think. But if you love her, if you really do love Rebecca then you must let her go."

Tim opened his mouth to violently protest but the words couldn't form themselves into a structured sentence. His heart was tearing into shreds and he couldn't be here when it finally disintegrated. So he just nodded. It was all he could do.

Matthew patted his shoulder and let him go, watching him scurry out of the study as fast as possible. After the door was slammed and the footsteps fading, into the distance, Matthew collapsed into his armchair, masking his face with his hand in utter despair. What had he just done?

* * *

><p>Rebecca sat fidgeting on the steps, chewing her nails in agitation as she waited for her father and Tim to finish talking. She was fairly confident that everything would be all right. Once her Papa saw that Tim was smart, confident and amiable for her, then he would surely approve no matter how old they were.<p>

The door slammed down the hallway. Rebecca scrambled up with baited breath, Tim strode down the long corridor towards the front door, scowling menacingly. Rebecca galloped down the stairs, her heart racing in trepidation.

"Timmy!" She yelled, meeting him on the ground floor before he made his eager escape. "You were just going to leave without saying goodbye?"

Tim's eyes flashed with what looked like compassion for a brief moment but in one blink of an eye, it was gone.

"There's no point in saying goodbye."

Rebecca flinched at his scathing tone, "Why? What did Papa say to you?"

Tim's lips twitched into a sarcastic smirk, "Your 'Papa' didn't say anything that everybody wasn't already thinking."

"I don't understand!" Rebecca pressed in confusion, "What exactly happened?"

Tim just shrugged. "What does it matter now? He's right. We're too young for this. We're just children playing in a fantasy world Rebecca but we can't afford to, not now when our country's being ripped to shreds in a war!"

"He said that to you?" Rebecca's voice was so inaudible Tim had to strain to hear her.

"Not in so many words. But it's the truth. You are still only thirteen."

"Why is everybody so keen on reminding me of that!" Rebecca said angrily. "I'm fourteen soon, do you really think just a few months is going to change my mind in how I feel?"

Tim sighed with impatience. "I have to go now. There's nothing here worth me sticking around for."

"Don't say that!"

Without so much as a look or a word, Tim turned on his heel and left the Abbey.

Rebecca stood rooted to the spot, still very much in shock at the exchange that had just taken place between them. A door opened next to her and her mother stepped out of the drawing room, obviously having heard every word.

"Oh my darling." Mary rushed forward to embrace her daughter and wipe away all the pain, but Rebecca wasn't having any of it.

"Stay away from me!" She hissed, wrenching out of her mother's arms and glowering at her.

Mary shrunk back in shock at her daughter's sharp behaviour. "Rebecca!"

"You told Papa to shun him didn't you?" Rebecca raged in an accusatory tone.

"No I didn't!" Mary said with fierce insistence.

"But Papa seemed so settled with meeting him and sealing his approval yesterday!" Rebecca replied in a voice born out of confusion more than anger,

Mary cupped her daughter's face so she could stare directly into those eyes that were so like hers. "Darling I promise you I had no involvement in what your father said to Timothy."

Rebecca felt her burning rage simmer away, only to be replaced by a hole of emptiness. "Oh Mama..." Now she allowed herself to fall into her mother's arms and have her tears wiped away by the comforting, soothing words of her mother.

Mary clutched her daughter to her breast and ran her fingers through her long, honeyed curls, her heart clenching with pain at the sound of her daughter's sobs. The only thing Mary could do at that point was to remind herself that Rebecca was still a child and she wasn't ready for a relationship as serious as Timothy, certainly not in the middle of a war.

Rebecca pulled away reluctantly with a watery sniff. "What am I going to do?"

"You're going to move on, that's what you're going to do." Mary said softly, "Now don't you worry. You're growing more and more beautiful by the day, when your time comes, why Rebecca you could have a prince if you really wanted!"

Rebecca glared at her in severe protestation, "I don't want a prince, I want Tim!" She took off running towards her father's study.

"Rebecca!" Mary called frantically, hurrying after her, "Rebecca wait!"

* * *

><p>Matthew looked up expectantly as the door to the study swung open. His son marched in.<p>

"No, no by all means carry on looking disappointed, it's only me," Edward said with a small smile. He strode towards his father and dropped an open letter on the table.

"What's this?" Matthew asked, picking up the letter with unease and examining its' contents.

"Summons for a check-up in London tomorrow and then straight off to Sandhurst for training." Edward replied quietly, "They certainly don't waste their time do they? It's all moving rather quickly isn't it?"

Matthew folded the letter back up, his heart twinging painfully at the meaning behind his son's words. "Yes it is." He cleared his throat, "It er – it doesn't say anything in here about who's going to be looking after you in Egypt?"

Edward quirked his brow, "Looking after me?"

"Your General," Matthew corrected with a hasty smile. "I assume that was in the other letter…"

"Oh…Uh…" Edward closed his eyes trying to summon up the name, "Starts with a B…" Matthew heaved an exasperated sigh, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I remember it because it reminded me of – wheelbarrow – Barrow!" Edward clicked his fingers with a triumphant smile.

Matthew's face immediately stiffened, the name striking a sharp chord.

"That was it Papa, General Barrow!"

"General Thomas Barrow?" Matthew asked with intense curiosity.

Edward frowned indifferently, "I think so. Why, do you know him?"

"Know him?" Matthew responded in bemusement, "He used to work here as a footman."

"He never!" Edward laughed, "Oh, well that's definitely something to use against him!"

"Now Eddie," Matthew chided, the smile slipping off, "Thomas – General Barrow was very hospitable towards me when were both at the front together. He also proved to be – reasonably helpful during the running of this house when it was a convalescent home and he was a medic, like you so show the deserved respect."

Edward nodded lethargically, "Of course I will Papa, just as long as he knows how to treat me. I'm joking!" He added with a laugh as his father's head twitched towards him. "So what happened to him?"

Matthew stilled, contemplating his answer. He shrugged, "I suppose he wanted a change."

Edward nodded, "No harm in that I suppose. Oh by the way, I saw Rebecca's rake leaving here with his face set like thunder, what happened?"

"I told him to leave Rebecca alone." Matthew answered dejectedly.

Edward released a sigh of relief, "Well finally!" He noticed his father's unhappy reaction to revealing such news and narrowed his eyes. "Papa? You look like you're actually upset over giving him the boot?" When Matthew didn't answer Edward pressed on accusingly, "You're not saying you actually considered giving them your blessing?" Matthew looked at him with guilt swimming in his eyes, Edward's face melted into disappointment, "Oh, Papa!"

"I considered it for just a fraction of a second!" Matthew protested weakly, "All though I wasn't exactly jumping for joy at the prospect. But of course now the more I think about it, the more I realise that it's for the best. For everyone."

"Good, I should think so!" Edward replied airily. "For a moment there I thought we'd have to stick you outside with all the other doormats."

Matthew rolled his eyes and chose to ignore his son's barefaced brashness. "But Ed the thing is, Rebecca might not understand my reasons for rejecting Tim, that's my problem!" He said, fidgeting with worry.

Edward just brushed off his father's concern with a tsk and a swift jerk of the head. "Rebecca needs to grow up and stop thinking she knows everything. Just because she walks around with her nose stuck in a book every hour of the day, doesn't place her in the same league of maturity as the rest of us."

"No but she definitely places higher than you," Matthew mumbled.

Edward opened his mouth to retort but shut it quickly as the thundering footsteps grew closer and Mary's voice echoed down the hall.

"Oh good, here comes trouble." Edward smartly backed off into the corner of the room, picking up the nearest book and disappearing behind it.

Rebecca burst into the room, her cheeks red with fortitude and her mother following close at her heels. They approached Matthew's desk, "You sent him away didn't you?" Rebecca accused.

Matthew stared at her in bewilderment, "Hello darling, how are you? I'm fine thank you for asking."

"Papa why do you have to torment me like this?" She raged through gritted teeth, "I was so sure you'd like him and instead you've driven him away!"

"That's putting it rather harshly considering the way Papa let him go." Edward quipped from the corner, "If it had been up to me, the poor scoundrel would have my boot mark imprinted on his backside till the day he dies!"

"Yes thank you Edward for your input but that's quite enough." Mary responded coolly.

"Well it's not up to you is it?" Rebecca hissed at her brother then she turned back to her father, "Can I at least know why?"

"He's not one of us, that's why!" Edward answered cuttingly, before Matthew could reply, "And if you know what's good for you and this family, you'd listen to Papa and stop acting like such a child!"

"I think I can speak for myself thank you Edward," Matthew said crisply. "Rebecca I'm sorry darling but you must listen to my judgement on this. Your mother and I, we know what's best for you."

"But Papa, he loves me doesn't that mean anything?" Rebecca asked, astounded.

"He paid you a few compliments it's hardly Eloise!" Edward interjected flippantly.

"Why don't you just pretend to read that book and be quiet!" Matthew rebuked in irritation.

"Darling your father and I are only trying to look out for your best interests," Mary said soothingly to her little girl. "Now, you may think you're in love but perhaps you're so used to seeing the affection between your father and myself, that you mistook his advances as something else."

Edward cleared his throat loudly but didn't say anything.

"I'm not going to give him up!" Rebecca stated hotly, stamping her foot like a spoiled child.

"You'll do as we say!" Matthew blurted out before he could stop himself, startling everyone in the room. He didn't mean to sound so harsh but the situation really was becoming quite ridiculous.

"Matthew?" Mary said in emphatic surprise. Never had Matthew's raised his voice to that level on one of his girls, the boys yes, mainly Edward but never his girls.

"I'm sorry Mary but I will not be disobeyed on this," Matthew said tetchily, jabbing his finger on the desk as he made each point."_He'll_ be going off to war soon and will forget all about her, _she'll_ forget all about him and then _we_ can all forget about this whole situation!"

"Couldn't have put it better myself!" Edward cheered.

"Do I not get a say in what goes on in my life?" Rebecca asked angrily. "Honestly Mama, I thought you would be on my side!"

"Darling I am on your si..." Mary trailed off, her heart hammering as she remembered Sybil's exact retort and her own reply. She tried to collect herself together, no, Rebecca was not going to be like Sybil. She wouldn't let her daughter encompass them with more shame.

Mary plastered on a reassuring smile, "I promise you Rebecca, when your time comes, you'll be introduced to only the best, because that's what you deserve. But in the meantime I suggest you push this silly little notion out of your head and concentrate on something useful. Why not help Georgina and your Grandmama in the soup kitchen? I know Mama's always complaining that they need a spare pair of hands and you need something to occupy your time."

"But it's not a notion Mama!" Rebecca argued, her anger bubbling to the surface, "I love him!"

"What do you know about love?" Edward shot out, "You're living in a fairy world!"

"I know more than you!" Rebecca bit back, "What do you know about love? Nothing! Even Lady Clarissa Deveroe wouldn't take you if she knew the kind of person you really were!"

Edward didn't know why but something in him just snapped. His eyes glazed over with anger as he hurled the book he had been pretending to read on the table, startling everyone, leaping out of his seat and scowling at his sister. "That's it." He strode over to his sister and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her, squealing with indignation, towards the window.

Mary released a startled scream, "What do you think you're doing? Edward get off her!"

Matthew lurched towards them but halted abruptly as his son deliberately tilted his face into the sunlight, exposing his healing bruise in its full splendour for everyone to see.

"You see this?" Edward pointed to his contusion, spitting out every single word with disdain, "You see what your precious Timmy did to me?" Rebecca faltered, completely speechless. "That is the idiot you want to throw your life away for!"

Matthew's jaw dropped in shock. "Tim? He was the one who did that to you?" Matthew wished he had him back in this room, he would've given him what for. First Rebecca, then Edward -

Mary's head snapped towards him in accusation, "You knew about that?"

Edward and Matthew gaped at her.

"You did too?" Edward asked with an underlying incredulity.

"Of course I knew!" Mary replied acidly, shooting her reprimanding eyes at both her husband and son. "You must think I have the word 'ignorant fool' stamped across my forehead!"

"Why didn't you say anything?" Matthew asked in annoyance.

Mary crossed her arms and glared at her son, "I was waiting for someone to say something to me first."

Edward tore his eyes away from his mother's intense gaze. "It – it was a pride thing, more than anything else."

Mary scoffed, "Oh I'm sure it was! Do I even want to know what you were doing?"

"Can someone please explain to me what is going on?" Rebecca demanded her voice on the brink of hysteria.

Edward pursed his lips and held his hands up, saying as honestly and sincerely as he could, "I went to The Grantham Arms on the evening of my birthday. I had a few games of poker with some of the lads."

Mary clenched her hands into fists, glowering at everyone.

"I played - that cad." Edward bit his lips, still seething with the recollection, "And he won. Naturally I became upset and so I - said a few words to him and then - he hit me." He added lamely, hastening to add that he had been the one who had hit the boy first. His parents instantly spotted the lie but they remained silent for their daughter's sake. Rebecca had sunk into the nearest armchair, too breathless for words.

Finally, she turned to her brother, "No, Eddie, I don't believe Timmy did that to you. He wouldn't." But she didn't sound too convinced.

"I'm telling you Becky, he did. He was like an animal, the way he attacked me," Edward's voice purposely shifted to a tone of core vulnerability. "I thought he wouldn't stop. I thought he was going to batter me to death. And I kept thinking… if only Rebecca knew."

Matthew flicked his eyes towards Mary's and they both shook their heads in exasperation at their son's embellishment. Fortunately the exaggeration worked on Rebecca for she covered her hand with her mouth, tears springing to her eyes.

"God, I've been so stupid." She whispered. Edward's lips twitched into a tiny smirk.

Mary's face melted into compassion. She knelt down beside her daughter and wiped away her tears, "Oh, you'll forget all about him in a second. You'll be walking around saying 'Timothy Alexander who?' You are worth so much more."

Rebecca's eyes sidled towards her mother for a split second at that last statement, but she didn't comment on it. Instead she politely excused herself and left the room.

Edward just stared at his parents, "You're welcome!" He said emphatically to them before sauntering out of the room, whistling jovially.

"I'm not finished with you yet!" Mary called out icily. "Not by a long shot!"

As soon as he had left the room, Matthew snatched up the phone.

"Who are you calling now?" Mary asked.

"War office," Matthew replied, frantically twisting the dials, "Now that Rebecca's been take care of, it's time to turn the attention back onto child number three. I've just found out that Thomas has been placed in charge of Edward."

Mary blanched, "Excuse me?" She spluttered, "Thomas Barrow? As in our old footman?"

"It's General Barrow now and yes." Matthew impatiently reclined on his desk while he waited to be connected, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder while unfolding Edward's letter again. "So I want to speak with him personally, pull a few strings, maybe threaten him to keep my boy safe."

"Thomas wouldn't do anything to Edward." Mary fidgeted with her necklace, "Would he?"

"I wasn't the one who sacked him." Matthew said blandly, glancing at the receiver, "Typical, they've put me on hold!"

Mary sighed, "You know Papa had to make cuts in the staff! The economy was crashing all around us! And he did ask for your opinion-"

"I know, I know, I'm partially to blame." Matthew responded in a voice tinged with guilt. "But I still want Edward watched. I just hope Thomas doesn't harbour such a vendetta against us that he'll take it out on Edward. I'm having them watched like a hawk."

Mary tilted her head to the side in disbelief, "Do you really think Edward will be pleased about you doing that?"

Matthew shrugged off her question. "He doesn't have a choice Mary. I'm his father."

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	22. Dominic Who?

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, thanks again for all the amazing reviews!

Um, so loads of you wanted to know why Edward didn't mention about his verbal abuse session with Tim. Well, there are a few reasons for that, one of which is that Edward is quite protective of Rebecca so to mention that to her would not only be inappropriate cuz of her age but it'll also just add to her heartbreak and even Eddie Crawley isn't that cruel! Also, he will tell his father about it but only after everything get's worse and yes some of you were right, Tim ain't going anywhere anytime soon! But more on that later. This chapter is literally split in two. This part focuses more on Mary/Georgina and the next one focuses on Matthew/Joseph. The beginning is about Rebecca's feelings, which I tried to tell as honestly as I can because, well, we all know what it's like to be a teenage, heartbroken girl! And if you don't well, count yourself lucky! But back to this story, this chapter pretty much speaks for itself.

So read it and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22 – Dominic Who?<strong>

_**April 13th 1940**_

Lady Rebecca lay amongst the thin blankets of her bed, just staring at the canopy above her. She couldn't stop the fat tears from leaking out of her eyes, no matter how much she wanted to. She wanted to chastise herself for being so stupid but truth be told, it just made her heart ache even more because even though she was ashamed to admit it - she missed him.

True, Rebecca had only known him for a few months but in those few months it had completely changed her and made her feel like for once in her damn life, she actually mattered. All of that was snatched away from her now. So she just retreated to her room, refusing to emerge, even for mealtimes. Even on those rare occasions when she did eat, she just picked at portions too small for even a bird. She rolled over and sighed heavily, her head feeling numb with depression.

Luckily, the soft patter of small footsteps stopped outside her room and rescued her from her tears. Benjamin Crawley pushed the door open carefully, tiptoeing to his sister's bed and touching her arm gently.

"Why are you crying Becky?" He asked softly.

Rebecca wiped her eyes quickly with the back of her hand and gave her brother a watery smile, "Oh it's nothing Benji. I just had a friend whom I liked – very much. But he turned out to be quite different than I thought and I feel quite upset about it."

"You don't need to cry." Benjamin said with intent, "I'll be your friend if you like!" He slipped his pudgy little hand in hers.

She squeezed it gratefully. "I'd like that." Still clinging onto his hand she hopped off the bed and let him guide her to his playroom, "Would you like me to tell you a story?"

Benjamin's cerulean eyes widened with excitement, "Yes, yes, tell me the story of Ali Baba!"

Rebecca chuckled, "I'll tell you what, I'll put on a puppet show for you shall I?"

Benjamin didn't even answer her, he just tore of running down the hall to his playroom. Rebecca smiled at his eagerness and his innocence. Her heart which had become cold and hardened in her chest, suddenly became ignited by a spark of warmth that was Benjamin.

* * *

><p><strong><em>April 14th 1940<em>**

"So he's gone for good now?" Cora asked her daughter. They were seated comfortably in the sitting room of the Dower House, sipping weak tea and discussing the latest news from the big house.

Mary nodded, stirring her tea and shooting her mother a relieved look, "It seems that way. Rebecca was quite upset by the whole palaver but I know she'll get over it. Today was the first time she voluntarily came down for breakfast since it all started so that's definitely progress." Mary took a sip of tea and made a face, "Ergh! How long is this rationing going to continue?"

Cora however continued to look concerned. "Did Rebecca really say she loved him?"

Mary looked up in surprise. "Oh Mama really, it's nothing! You know what girls are like at that age. A boy shows you even an ounce of attention and you're planning the wedding, it's all quite ridiculous."

"Do I need to remind you of Sybil?" Cora asked, her tone a little sharp.

Mary's lips thinned with indignation. "Of course not. Do you think I haven't already thought of that? Luckily and thanks to Edward, we nipped it in the bud while we still had the chance otherwise God only knows what would've happened. But as things stand, everything is quite well again."

Cora threw her hands up, "I'm only warning you. What does Matthew make of it all?"

Mary released a tired laugh, "He was quite unprepared to tell you the truth. We were actually planning on spending the day with Rebecca and try to lift her spirits up but then he was called away in the early hours of the morning. He caught the early train to Buckinghamshire, said it was vastly important."

"Buckinghamshire?" Cora echoed, "What on earth's up there that needs his assistance so urgently?"

Mary shrugged, "Apparently he's off to some estate in Milton Keynes, called - Bletchley Park, have you heard of it?"

Surprise glistened behind Cora's light blue eyes, "Bletchley Park? Why yes, that used to be owned by Sir Herbert Samuel Leon, your father and I had luncheon there once, just after we were married. In fact I think Sir Herbert even came to our wedding! Of course that was before he passed away, I don't know what's become of the estate now."

"Well apparently now it's being used as headquarters for something war related but Matthew either can't or won't tell me what." Mary raised her eyebrows in annoyance. "Up until now I didn't really pry, I suppose a small part of me still wants to remain ignorant of everything that's being going on. But then this whole fiasco with Rebecca happened and it was like a spanner in the works."

Cora smiled thinly. "Nobody tells you how hard it is to bring up daughters. I remember telling O'Brien that you think it was like something out of Little Women!"

"Well, Rebecca and Georgina have a wonderful relationship!" Mary countered, "Much better than Edith or I. It's only when they start getting ideas, is when the trouble starts!"

"Don't remind me! I've already been through it all with you girls!"

"So is this supposed to be my comeuppance for everything I put you and Papa through?" Mary asked with a small smirk.

Cora laughed. "Just be thankful you only have the two! Now, speaking of, how's Georgina getting along?"

"Fine. She's gone up to the village today to meet a friend but she wouldn't tell me who it was." Mary said with a knowing smile.

Cora raised her brow in pleasant recognition, "Oh I see. Does she have anyone in mind?"

Mary dithered, "She does but it might come to nothing. Girls these days Mama, they have much more freedom when it comes to courting. It's not like how it was back then."

Nevertheless Cora's eyes widened with excitement. "She has someone? Who? Do we know him?"

Her daughter released a small chuckle, looking around the tea table, "Sometimes I feel as if you and I are you and Granny from thirty years ago! Discussing suitors for us and who to marry and what dress to wear for this ball or that. It all seems rather pointless now, don't you think? With everything that's happened. The war, the depression, now another war…"

Cora nodded mechanically, "Time creeps up on us so fast Mary. Blink and you'll wonder where it's gone."

"I know. All I need to do is look at my children to realize that."

"But that doesn't mean we should let Georgina bloom through the best years of her youth without any bee!" Cora said pointedly.

Mary rolled her eyes, "Oh Mama if you're looking for something like that then sadly you're in for a disappointment. Your – bees – as you call them are all off fighting, every young man who hasn't already volunteered will be conscripted soon. Nearly every morning Georgina receives some unpleasant letter about a friend or an acquaintance that was killed or injured."

Cora's face fell with the truth of her daughter's words, "It is an unfortunate time to be a girl of her age."

Mary stared at her in exasperation, "I think it's an unfortunate time to be any person of her age!"

"Of course." Cora replied apologetically. "I'm sorry dear, I was just talking without thinking!" She reached for her daughter's hand. "How are my grandsons?"

Mary smiled weakly, "Joseph writes to us but he doesn't give us proper details about what he's doing, he just writes that he's still on the move and they're all very restless, whatever that's supposed to mean. Edward's gone to Sandurst for training." She took a long gulp of tea to calm her fraying nerves. "Oh and Benji's running around the Abbey pretending to be a soldier now!"

"And what about Tommy?" Cora asked quietly.

Mary's head snapped up. "I – I'm not sure. The last time we spoke it was on Boxing Day where he made it perfectly clear that we weren't to pry in his life. I'm not really sure how to react."

"Have you talked to Sybil?"

Mary's expression darkened, "I've tried calling her but her delightful husband keeps answering the phone and always informs me that she's busy. He's very curt in his reply."

"Well, he won't be curt when he talks to me!" Cora huffed.

"Mama," Mary started with intent, "Don't rile Branson, not while we don't know all the facts."

"What kind of facts are there to know?" Cora asked in disbelief, "The bottom line is, Tommy is my grandson, your nephew and our family!"

"I know that," Mary replied, her voice tinged with hurt, "I'm just telling you that everything isn't black and white where Tommy's concerned so there's no need to jump down my throat!"

Cora heaved a sad sigh. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget that he's growing up too, I rarely speak to him and Siobhan, and it's so hard when they're living abroad. And then I think of Edith and her girls and the new baby on the way. I feel so shut out of their lives."

Mary squeezed her mother's hand, "Well, I'm still here Mama, you know I won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

Cora smiled and patted her arm, "I should hope not. That house won't run itself." They tittered, taking a few more sips of the weak tea. "So, we were talking about Georgina's beau. What's he like?"

Mary struggled to conceal her grin. "Oh, where to start? His name's Dominic Hamilton, he's twenty and he's a fighter pilot in the RAF!"

A wide smile spread over the Dowager Countess's face. "Dominic Hamilton? That name rings a very familiar bell, which must be a good thing! Where have I heard that name before?"

"Oh, probably from the London Hamilton's who own Hamilton Toyshop." Mary replied with air of smugness. The smile wilted from Cora's face into a look of misunderstanding gone ignored by her daughter. "From what Georgina tells me, they own a whole chain in New York and Paris, which must make them very rich. I personally don't know much about them but I know you and Papa used to. Well, were acquainted with them anyway."

Cora tried to smile through her confusion, "Yes dear, I didn't know them very well but – well – I met their son, once. At the Royal Ascot back in thirty-three."

Mary immediately put down her cup, "Oh you know Dominic? That's wonderful, I should tell Georgina -"

"No, no Mary no!" Cora sharply interrupted her daughter. She hesitated for a moment before saying slowly, "I didn't meet any Dominic."

Mary frowned. "I – I don't understand I thought you just said you met their son?"

"Oh I did. He talked your father's ear off about the toyshop; no one could get a word in edgeways. He was such a sweet little boy, I remember him well." Cora raised a sharp brow. "Only his name wasn't Dominic. It was Anthony."

Mary's jaw dropped in shock. "Anthony? Anthony? It can't be. You must be mistaken!"

"I assure you I am not!" Cora responded with defiance, "And if Dominic is twenty now, then how I come I remember talking to an eight year old, back in thirty-three, hmm? Wouldn't that make him, what, fifteen now?"

"This is all so muddled," Mary murmured, rubbing her temples.

"There's more." Cora added lightly.

Mary lifted her head to gape at her. "More?"

"Anthony Hamilton died three years ago of Tuberculosis." Cora whispered.

"What?" Mary gasped, "Are you quite sure?"

"I'm positive." Cora said with a firm nod. "I sent my condolences to the Hamilton's." Her eyes grew small, "I remember it well Mary because it was around the same time as your father died."

Mary glanced at the floor. Then she jerked her head back up, sputtering, "A brother then. It must be Dominic's brother. Georgina told me he was an only child but – that's now. Maybe he didn't mention that he had a brother who died."

Cora shook her head. "Anthony was an only child. Yes the Hamilton's did have one son but it wasn't Dominic." Mary couldn't speak. She was literally lost for words. "So the question remains," Cora continued, voicing the very thoughts which were coursing through Mary's mind. "Who is this boy that is honing in on our Georgina?"

* * *

><p>Lady Georgina took a deep breath and shuffled closer to the grand desk which was barring a damper man in an elegant, three piece suit who was scribbling away incessantly.<p>

Georgina cleared her throat, "Excuse me? Detective Chief Superintendent Brownlow?

Brownlow glanced up absently then stood up immediately when he saw her, "Lady Georgina! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Are you busy?" She asked nervously.

He shook his head, indicating she take a seat, "Not at all. Now, what can I do for you?"

Georgina settled into her seat with a wide smile, "Well, DCS Brownlow, it's really what I can do for you?"

Brownlow leaned closer, trying to mask his confusion with a smile, "I'm sorry?"

"I'm here to offer my services to you in the Downton Police Force," Georgina replied rather pointedly.

Brownlow stared at her for the longest time before cracking into an amused laugh.

"Is something funny?" Georgina asked in polite irritation.

"No, no not at all!" Brownlow dismissed swiftly, "It's just – well, you're a girl."

All forms of courteousness slipped from the young lady's demeanour and she straightened up proudly, emulating the very picture of her mother. "I assure you I'm quite capable." She replied in a voice dripping with iciness.

"I'm not so sure Lady Georgina," Brownlow said evenly, still trying not to laugh. "I'm perfectly capable managing the way I am."

Georgina quirked her brow in disbelief. "Is that so? Because it doesn't look that way from where I'm sitting."

"I – I don't know what you mean." Brownlow sputtered.

"As I'm sure you're well aware, this village is running quite low on officers." Georgina glanced around vaguely, "In fact if I'm being brutally honest, there are hardly any. Now, my father is the Earl of Grantham so naturally nothing escapes this village without him or any of us knowing about it. I know that eight of your best officers, the ones under forty-one have all enlisted which leaves you quite destitute in terms of help wouldn't you agree Detective Chief Superintendent?" She shot him a gleaming smile.

"And what makes you think I need any help at all?" Brownlow asked in an irksome manner, "It's not like I'm up to my neck in crime!"

"Well, half the people in this whole country are being armed with weapons, guns and specifically taught how to kill other people!" Georgina replied with apparent frustration, "You don't suspect that there might be just – some – repercussions from that?"

Brownlow hesitated. "Well – what can you offer to the police force?"

"I can do any basic services that you need."

Brownlow creased his brow, "Well as it happens I do need someone to sort through all my paperwork, make tea, drive me to -?"

"Let's just get one thing straight shall we," Georgina interrupted coolly, "I'm not a secretary nor a maid, nor a chauffeur." She glowered at him, "If I was I wouldn't be sitting here, arguing with you now would I?"

"Well in that case I can't help you!" Brownlow snapped, turning back to his paperowrk.

"Now we both know that's not true." Georgina replied sweetly. Brownlow looked up irritably. "Do I need to quote the paragraph about women's responsibilities? I think, replacing jobs which the men have left behind, is a more simple way to phrase it for you DCS Brownlow and I'm sure there must be something here for me to do, what with nearly all your men away."

"Look, I feel quite uncomfortable in sending the Earl of Grantham's eldest daughter out on patrol!" Brownlow said through gritted teeth.

"Don't worry about my father," Georgina said with a dismissive wave of her hand, "Let me handle him. Besides, I'm eighteen now and I'll be called up to do my part for the war anyway, so I might as well start here."

"But why here?" Brownlow did nothing to disguise the surprise embedded in his voice. "Why not try the hospital, I'm sure they'd jump through rings of fire to get you on board Lady Georgina!"

"I'm sure they will." Georgina replied with a small smile, fiddling with her gloves, "And who knows what will happen later on. But I do know from reliable sources that rural villages are the magnet for spies and I'm fiercely protective of Downton. I'm happy to do whatever it is you want me to do in order to keep it safe."

"Look, if you really wanted to join the police force Lady Georgina then why not join the Women's Auxiliary Corps?" Brownlow asked eagerly, "They would definitely snap you right up! Why on earth would you want to volunteer in a tiny police station in Downton?"

Georgina just replied in the most simplistic manner, "Because Downton was, is and always will be my home and a part of my heart DCS Brownlow. If maybe, later on I am to join a Women's Army, depending on how long this war drags on for, then I need all the experience I can get don't I? So I know what I'm doing."

Brownlow's lips twitched into a reluctant smile, "So I take you on and train you up as one of my own and then the second you get bored or if a better offer comes along, you'll just leave me in the lurch hmm?"

"Oh I wouldn't quite say that!" Georgina responded in amusement, "You see I don't mean to toot my own horn but I have quite a reputation amongst the village. I'm sure if you take me on board, then you'll have heaps more young ladies, ready and willing to offer their services too!"

"Oh well, how marvellous for me," Brownlow said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes quite." Georgina stood up and adjusted her hat. "So, have you considered my proposition? I can help shed some light onto this insolvent station."

Brownlow sucked in a deep breath, his eyes screaming with rejection. Yet he released a low sigh and forced his lips into a smile. "You're not going to leave me alone are you?"

"No." Georgina replied modestly with pleasant smile.

Brownlow resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He stretched out a hand. "Welcome aboard then Lady Georgina."

* * *

><p>When Mary entered the Abbey that evening she immediately intended to seek her husband and eldest daughter out and have a little chat with them about the Dominic situation.<p>

However, once Cutler had welcomed her in and helped her out of her coat, he said formally, "His Lordship telephoned about fifteen minutes ago my lady and said that due to extraordinary circumstances, he must stay overnight at Bletchley Park."

Mary's eyes widened in anticipation. "Goodness, extraordinary circumstances. Did he say what they were?"

"He did not your Ladyship."

"Well, how did he sound?" Mary pressed.

Cutler's lips twitched into a brief smile, "He sounded quite excited your ladyship."

"Oh I see." Mary chewed on her lips in agitation. "Well in that case it can't be that bad can it? Did he leave a number? Can I call him after dinner?"

"Leave it with me your ladyship." Cutler jerked his head into a bow and swiftly departed into the servants quarters.

"Mama you're back!"

Mary's head flicked up at the sound of hurried footsteps. Georgina galloped downstairs, her dark curls bouncing off her shoulders, blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "Is Papa here yet?"

Her mother narrowed her eyes in suspicion at her daughter's animated behaviour. "No, he's not coming home tonight; he has urgent war business which calls his attention all night."

Georgina's face fell, "Oh dear, poor Papa. Nothing bad I hope."

"It doesn't sound like it but I'm planning on calling him after dinner nevertheless." Mary glanced around her, noting the emptiness of the house without Matthew and Edward's strong presence. "Where is everyone?" She asked softly.

"Rebecca and Benji are upstairs and Granny's at the hospital." Georgina gushed.

Mary surveyed her daughter's appearance closely, her cheeks were flushed and her lips could barely contain a smile. The sickening realisation settled into her stomach. She must have been with Dominic this afternoon, that's why she was so excited.

"What's wrong Mama?" Georgina asked, her face etching into concern, "You look greatly troubled."

Mary laughed wearily, "I am. But we needn't concern ourselves with that." She tried to head towards the library but Georgina quickly blocked her path.

"Is it because of Rebecca?" She asked in a low whisper, "Because she'll come through it. We should just be thankful that he's gone good riddance."

Mary tried to plaster on a false smile, but inside, her heart was about to tear. Oh how could she break the news to Georgina about Dominic? How could she break another daughter's heart? Mary very nearly laughed out loud at the irony of it all. Her sons may be off risking their lives but the fragile emotions of her daughters were wearing her down to no end.

"But don't worry," Georgina said in reassurance, a mischievous smile spreading back across her lips. "I've got some news to tell you that is bound to cheer you up."

Mary's stomach plummeted. "Actually, darling there's something I must tell you as well. But here isn't the right place. Let's go somewhere private and talk."

Leading her curious daughter to the library, she shut the door and sat down next to her, taking Georgina by the hands and trying to find the right words to say. "Darling. Today I had tea with your Grandmama. I told her all about Dominic and she was very pleased and excited at first."

"All right." Georgina replied with hesitation, unsure of where this conversation was going.

Mary took a deep breath, her eyes glistening, "There's no easy way to explain this to you. But it seems that Dominic is not the person he says he is and has been lying to you from day one."

Georgina's beautiful face melted into bewilderment. "I don't understand. Are you trying to say that – what are you trying to say?"

Mary looked away for a split second. "I'm trying to say that the Hamilton family who own Hamilton toys had one son – Anthony Hamilton who died three years ago."

Her mother's words swam frantically around Georgina's mind, trying to piece themselves together in a sensible order. She couldn't comprehend what her mother had just said. "No, Grandmama must have been mistaken. She must've been!"

Mary shook her head rigidly, "I don't think she's mistaken darling. Your grandparents actually met and spoke to him back at the Royal Ascot in thirty-three. Anthony that is and he was an eight year old boy back then. Surely if it were Dominic he would've been how old? Rebecca's age? I think all the facts speak for themselves."

"What facts?" Georgina shot out, before she could stop herself, "Dominic could be – an adoptive son for all we know."

Mary briefly considered this fact. "But then why didn't he say anything?"

Georgina raised her brow at her mother in disbelief, "Would you be open about something like that? He seemed quite hostile towards me when I mentioned his family if you must know."

Her mother opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by the door opening and Cutler stepping inside, announcing, "The Dowager Countess my ladies."

Both mother and daughter leapt to their feet at Cora's arrival. She majestically swept into the room, looking from one to other in suspicion. She turned to Cutler. "Mr Cutler please could you ask Mrs Plum for some tea? I have a feeling we're going to be here for a while." Georgina rolled her eyes.

"Certainly. Will you be staying for dinner m'lady?" Cutler glanced at Mary.

"It's just going to be us women and Benji tonight. Matthew's not coming home, he's staying at Bletchley Park." Mary explained.

"Oh, well this day gets more and more interesting!" Cora chuckled darkly, she turned back to Cutler, "Of course I'll stay for dinner."

Cutler bowed and slipped out of the room, leaving them in private.

Cora wasted no time in getting straight to the point. "I gather you've told her then?" She asked her daughter.

Mary sighed but Georgina was the one who answered, "Yes Grandmama, she told me everything that happened over your little tea party but I told her that there is obviously a reasonable explanation behind it all."

Cora narrowed her eyes at her granddaughter, laughter forming at the corners of her mouth, "Such as?"

"She thinks he might've been adopted." Mary interjected evenly.

"He might've been!" Georgina stated hotly. "It's the only explanation; I mean why else would he make something like that up? What would he have to gain?"

"You for starters my dear!" Cora answered, her eyes wide with emphasis, "Men will say and do anything to impress young girls such as yourself. Has this business with your sister taught you nothing?"

"I'm telling you this is different," Georgina said in a low voice, "Look, I'm not in love with him. You can give me some credit. But I'm not trying to be difficult or immature… I know I don't even know him that well, I admit to that. Yet, I do remember him vaguely. He seems very familiar to me and I'm trying to understand why."

"Yes, you thought he seemed familiar as well didn't you?" Mary asked her mother.

Cora nodded. "I did. His name sounds so familiar to me, when you mentioned it, it seemed so natural. But I can't seem to place him anywhere."

"Neither can I." Georgina added quietly.

Mary looked from her mother to her daughter in exasperation. "So who is he then?"

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	23. The Gathering Storm

**Author's Note:**Hey sooo sorry for the delay but this chapter was hell to write in terms of fitting in with the timelines, etc. etc.

Also, I just wanna thank my lil sis for helping me create the front cover which took all day yesterday, so that's also partially to blame for the delay.

Anyway back to this story, I decided to just write it all out in the space of two days but it deals with important forshadowing for the big historic event that's about to come! Also, please excuse any inaccuracies regarding Bletchley Park and the enigma code but it was so complex I couldn't revolve a proper chapter around it without putting you all to sleep! I tried - believe me. We also get some more about Joseph and the RAF.

And about Rebecca/Tim - well we're getting there.

So please read and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 23 - The Gathering Storm<strong>

**_April 14th 1940_**

Matthew Crawley rubbed his tired eyes, staring blearily around the vast room which belonged to the magnificent estate that was of course Bletchley Park. It wasn't as big as Downton but it still beheld that homely feeling which Matthew always craved, especially since he was away from his family. His body inadvertently fell against the wooden window ledge, due to lack of sleep and energy. He gazed outside the window, admiring the luscious lawns which looked peaceful and calm in the twilight, completely contrast to the frantic bustle of activity which was issuing inside Hut eight of the estate.

A whole hoard of Mathematicians, problem-solvers and crossword fanatics sat glued to their bombes, trying to decipher the immense numbers of permutations in enigma settings, all of them working solidly through the night and into the early hours of the morning. Matthew was enthralled by the whole flurry of activity and impressed with the technology that had emerged since the last war. How little it all seemed back then, in comparison to the grander scale in which the war consisted of now.

Matthew downed the last few dregs of his fourth cup of coffee, desperate not to let his energy fall. He may not be twenty- something anymore, but he was definitely more determined than the rest of his young charges. His thoughts wandered back home to Downton and his family, wondering how they were coping without him. A small sliver of fear slithered through his mind at the thought of a bomb hitting them while he was away, as such luck would have it, but he effectively pushed such paranoid thoughts out of his head. Of course his family were all right, why wouldn't they be?

"Are you coming back to work or not Grantham?" Commander Denniston shouted from the corner of the room, waving a thin slip of paper at him, "Because we need your help, I can't – no one can understand what these codes mean, maybe you can give it a go?"

Matthew gave him a thin smile, "Can I call my wife first?"

Denniston rolled his eyes, "If you must."

Matthew headed out of the room as quickly as possible, glad for the reprieve of the stuffy atmosphere. He loosened his tie, feeling unnecessary to put on such formal attire at a time like this. No one seemed to care about anything other than their assigned task, which is one of the reasons why Matthew felt so at ease here. It reminded him of his life before he had become Earl or even before he became the heir. When people had treated him with the respect he deserved because of his mind and intelligence and not because of some gallant title.

Picking up the thin handset, he carefully dialled the numbers to the Abbey, welcoming Cutler's familiar voice in his ear.

"Hello Cutler it's Lord Grantham." Matthew greeted warmly.

_"Oh your Lordship!"_ Cutler stuttered in surprise, forcing Matthew to supress a chuckle. _"How is everything coming along?"_

"Fine." Matthew answered, knowing it was the only answer he could give albeit such classified information. "I was wondering if I could have a word with Lady Grantham."

_"Ah, her ladyship is taking tea with the Dowager Countess my lord."_ Cutler replied formally.

Matthew's face drooped in disappointment, "I see. Do you know when she'll be back?"

_"It's hard to say precisely my lord – would you like me to give her ladyship a message?"_

Commander Denniston appeared in the doorway his face a picture of exhilaration. He impatiently flashed Matthew a thumbs up and then beckoned him to hang up the phone and get back inside.

"Yes!" Matthew quickly responded with boyish joy, excitement suddenly exploding in the pit of his stomach, "Yes Cutler, could you please tell Lady Grantham that – due to extraordinary circumstances I must remain at Bletchley Park overnight." He glanced back at Denniston who nodded in approval.

_"Very well your Lordship."_ Cutler replied in surprise, _"I will pass the message straight on to Lady Grantham."_

"Thank you Cutler. Goodbye." Matthew hung up the phone and hurried towards Denniston in anticipation, "Well? What's happened?"

"I think we've done it." Denniston whispered, his voice practically quivering with happiness and relief.

A wide smile spread across the Earl's face. "That's unbelievable. I'm lost for words – I - can't believe it."

"Well everyone did their part." Denniston said, returning the smile. "You know I think this calls for a celebration!"

Matthew laughed and followed his comrade back inside, the burden bearing on his shoulders, suddenly feeling much lighter. The war could be over soon and then his boys could come back home!

* * *

><p><em><strong>April 15th1940<strong>_

Rebecca needed to get out of that house. She had been cooped up inside like a caged bird for weeks and she was growing increasingly tired of dwelling on her pitiful thoughts. She pinned her curls back at the sides and selected a nice light, blue dress which deemed perfect on this warm Spring morning. How interesting it was that she chose that particular morning to leave the house, expecting nothing to come out of it except a good stroll and a clear mind. Perhaps if she had chosen a different day, a different morning, the whole course of her life could've been very altered indeed.

Taking her usual route, she sauntered down the village high-street, pausing momentarily to reflect on a large poster plastered outside the wall of the pharmacy, encouraging women to join up. She couldn't help but supress a sigh. If only conscription had been lowered to fourteen, then she would've been able to do her part as well.

Rebecca carried on walking, right past the bakery prompting her stomach to growl. She realized with a sudden jolt that in her haste to get out of the house, she had missed breakfast. Her hand was on the chest of the door, ready to push it open, when a sharp sentence from around the corner, caught her ear, forcing her to stop, frozen in shock.

"I'm telling you Patricia, it's only a matter of time. In just a few weeks, Hitler will be conquering us and then these bloody Jews won't know what's hit them."

Rebecca didn't even know how to react to something like that. She felt as if someone had punched her in the chest, she couldn't breathe she was so upset. Dear God, what a thing to say? The voice being spoken was so loud it was almost like they didn't care who heard them. The voice belonged to a male but what shocked her even more to the core, was that his accent wasn't German or foreign at all.

But one-hundred per cent English.

His diction couldn't have been more perfect and his words more enunciated. She took a deep breath and held it while she shuffled closer to the spine of the shop, ear tilting towards the alleyway, waiting to hear more.

"But darling, what you're doing is wrong." The woman whom Rebecca could only assume was called, Patricia, spoke with a worrying tilt to her amused voice. "I know you're only acting for the best but isn't it against the law?"

The man just snorted, "Law? There is no law? And once the fhurer comes, we'll be the ones on top of the world my girl! And then you and I shall dance on the graves of all the men and women who dared challenge him!" Rebecca gasped, clapping her hand to her mouth. "This is the start of something magnificent my darling, just you wait and see."

"I already know all this my love," Patricia said with a pout to her tone, "I'm not saying I don't support you because you know I do. I just don't want to see you get hurt or hanged for – this country."

"I don't care." The man said with some aggression, then dropping his voice so Rebecca had to lean closer to hear more. "It isn't our country anymore, it's been overrun with foreigners. You know Whitechapel is crawling with so many Jews, I had to burn my jacket once I was done walking up the street."

"The tweed one?"

"Precisely!"

"Oh no!"

"So you see," The man grumbled, "That, my sweet one, is what we are being reduced to and in our own country too. I tell you, Hitler has the right idea. Hile Hitler, all the way!"

A surge of disgust and loathing like no other, flowed through Rebecca, every word she heard was like a nail into the coffin of a fallen soldier.

"They're moving towards France and they're preparing for the biggest invasion you've ever seen." The man said with glee, "These boys won't stand a chance!"

"I'm so excited." Patricia trilled, "I can't wait."

Rebecca shook her head in disbelief. These words were enough to send chills shooting up her spine. 'These boys wouldn't stand a chance…' Oh God - moving towards France - Joseph! She inadvertently released a panicked sob.

"Did you hear something?" Patricia asked sharply.

Before Rebecca could even comprehend her escape, the man was around the corner in a flash, catching her eavesdropping. Patricia followed suit. If it had been any other kind of meeting situation Rebecca would have laughed out loud. Her face was caked with so much make-up she resembled a clown. But her cold, grey eyes scrutinized the girl, piercing through her.

"What were you doing?" She asked with a waspish tone.

Rebecca straightened up, trying to inject some pride into her demeanour as her mother and sister would have done but her whole body was thumping with fear. The man stretched his thin lips into a smile. He wore an elegant pinstriped suit and reeked of stale cologne, not like the nice, expensive kind that her father wore. All in all he unnerved her to the bone.

"Look – I'm sorry, I have to go," She said hastily, trying to shuffle away but the man grabbed her hand firmly, releasing his grip instantly as she winced.

"Don't go, I didn't mean to frighten you." He said, gently stroking his thumb over the back of her hand. "Patricia was just concerned that's all." He shot a quick glance at the woman who just scowled in response. "What you heard was just innocent conversation that's all."

"Well it didn't sound very innocent to me." Rebecca replied evenly, "In fact it sounded quite ghastly."

"Oh no, no you misunderstood us." The man laughed, cold and sneering, "We were merely expressing our concerns about the safety of this country that's all."

Rebecca quirked her brow. "Really? By supporting the enemy?"

"Are they really the enemy though?" The man asked with a glacial smirk, "In a few weeks the Germans will invade Britain and we need to make sure we know whose side we're on. It's no point blindly fighting when we know we're going to lose. Hitler's already invading France and soon they'll be here." His eyes beheld a manic gleam, "And then this country will be restored to the greatness it once was."

"You are sick!" Rebecca spat, trying to wrench her hand out of his strong grasp. "Soldiers all over the country are fighting for it and you're mad if you think I'm going to let you destroy everything they're working for!"

"Oh and what are you planning on doing about it?" Patricia laughed, with ice cold venom.

"You'll see!" Rebecca hissed, still trying to yank her arm away but this man's grip was far too strong, his fingers digging into her delicate skin.

"I don't think she understands who it is she's talking to." The man sung to Patricia, his smile widening, almost maddening.

"You're the one who doesn't understand who it is their talking to," Rebecca responded through gritted teeth, his grip was becoming more and more tighter.

He pulled her closer, "Is that right? And who exactly are you?"

"Oi!"

All three of them snapped their heads towards the interjecting voice. Rebecca released a deep sigh of relief as Tim came jogging towards them, his face contorted with fierce protection.

"Can I help you?" The man asked him sharply.

"Yeah you can." Tim replied, approaching them, "You can get your slimy hands off her."

The man glanced at his companion, exchanging a laugh. He turned back to Tim, surveying him with intense patronisation. "Why don't you run along back to your toys little boy and leave the grown ups to their own business."

"I said get your hands off her." Tim repeated in controlled anger.

A flash of anger appeared in the man's eyes, he rounded on Tim saying in a threatening manner, almost challenging, "Or what?"

Tim released a small laugh, turned away for a brief moment then swung his arm round and collided his fist full on the man's jaw. Rebecca and Patricia screamed as he hit the floor, clutching his jaw, glaring daggers at Tim.

Tim pulled Rebecca away from them and into a strong hug. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, still very much shaken. "I am now. Thank you."

Patricia helped the man to his feet. He pointed a shaking finger at Tim. "You're going to regret that my lad."

Tim just scoffed, "Do your worst." He rubbed his hand up Rebecca's arm soothingly."It's all right, it's all right Becky. I'm here now."

"Come on darling let's go." Patricia whispered, ushering him away from the bakery and back down the alley as fast as possible.

Rebecca swiftly pulled away from her former beau, her heart still hammering with fear. "I want to go home."

"Of course, I'll walk you back up." Tim encircled his arm around her.

"No!" Rebecca replied quickly, shrugging out of his arm, however much she wanted to just fall into them. "I - I mean, you don't have to. I can walk home by my -"

"I understand." Tim said with a sad smile and a nod. "I knew you'd finished with me since you stopped returning my letters. I suppose your family got you."

"They wouldn't have done if you hadn't pounded my brother into a pulp!" Rebecca retorted with as much dignity as she could muster, given her current state.

Tim chuckled bitterly, "Is that what he told you? That unbelievable little git!"

"Oh that's nice!" Rebecca shot back, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits, "If you want to insult my family, do it on your own!"

"I'm sorry but I think you need to know the truth," Tim replied, his eyes burning with suppressed fury. "Your precious brother isn't as innocent as he pretends to be you know. That night he - he provoked me, taunted me!"

"So you hit him?" Rebecca responded, doing nothing to conceal the disapproval and hurt laced in her voice.

"You didn't hear the things he said!"

"Over a game of cards?" Rebecca asked with incredulity.

Tim's eyes flicked guiltily to the floor but he covered it up quickly. "Well, I don't like being called out, or being called a liar or a cheat. I just lost control. Since when was that a crime?"

"It might well be if you lose your control and kill someone." Rebecca hissed, "I mean, you're going off to war for heaven's sake! You're going to be armed with guns and bullets and God knows what else! What are you going to do if someone upsets you or treds on your toes? Or God forbid call you names? What will you do, shoot them?

"Oh give me some credit!" He snapped.

"After what you've just said, why should I?" She countered hotly.

"So you'll hear Edward out but not me?" Tim breathed, "Wonderful. Well it's nice to know where I stand after everything that's happened between us."

"Tim -" Rebecca started apolegetically but he held up a hand to silence her.

"No it's fine Rebecca, it's fine, I do understand. I promised your father I'd stay away and I'm man enough to live up to that promise now. Even if I didn't before." He saluted her with two fingers, pulling away and walking backwards in the opposite direction. "I'll see you around Lady Rebecca." He pointed at her with a dry smirk, "Don't you go getting yourself into anymore trouble." He turned around and walked back up the street.

Rebecca watched him go, her heart feeling heavy and her head spinning with complicated worries.

"Rebecca!"

Still in a daze, she turned towards the familiar voice, to see her Granny hurrying up to meet her. For an old lady, she could definitely move fast for her age. "Rebecca darling, I thought that was you!" Isobel greeted her granddaughter with a quick peck on the cheek. "It's been such a hectic day at the hospital but I won't upset you with all those grisly details!"

Rebecca didn't say a word, just continued to stare into the distance.

"I thought maybe I could pop up to the big house for luncheon and then dash back for the afternoon shift. Dr Green says I really didn't have to come back but I just insisted upon it. I have years and years of medical experience and I must use it to do my bit - I feel so useless other..." Isobel trailed off, finally noticing her granddaughter's crumbling demeanor. "Oh my dear, whatever's the matter? You look as though you've had a terrible shock."

Rebecca turned her pale face towards her grandmother, noting the warmth, love and concern shimmering in her eyes. She felt herself collapse into Isobel's arms, tears of panic meandering down her cheeks. "Granny, something bad's going to happen to Joe! I just know it!"

"Whatever do you mean by that?" Isobel asked in alarm, smoothing out her granddaughter's angel curls.

"I heard - something today, it was so terrible, so awful, I can't repeat it here!" Rebecca choked, swallowing her anxiety and trying to straighten up.

"Well you don't have to." Isobel said calmly, "We'll walk up to the house together and you can tell me all about it on the way. Now, what time does your father get back from Buckinghamshire?"

"We're expecting him back home this afternoon. Georgina's going to pick him up from the station, God help him."

"Oh she'll be fine, she passed with flying colours!" Isobel replied dismissively, "Now let's worry about you for once shall we?"

* * *

><p>Captain Joseph Matthew Crawley arched into a reasonably comfortable position in his tent, clutching his rifle closer to his chest and trying to keep his ragged breathing in control . They were still stuck in France and despite the Spring season it was a cold, dank and dismal day with small droplets of rain pattering the roof of their fragile tents and forcing all of the soldiers into a bleak mood.<p>

However their sprits cheered slightly as they finally received their letters from home. Lieutenant Toby Grimshaw poked his head into Joseph's tent, handing him Matthew's letter with a grin. "There you go Captain, there's yours and I think that's the last of it."

Joseph accepted his letter with great care and recognized his father's handwriting immediately. "It's from my father!" He exclaimed in delight. "I wonder what he has to say?"

Lieutenant Grimshaw pulled a face, "Mine was just advising me not to get myself killed, you know, the usual banter."

Joseph laughed, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. "If only he knew how bored we all are. Patrolling and digging – leave -patrolling and digging – leave – patrolling and digging - leave and then back again for some more patrolling. And digging." He shook his head in tired amusement. "It's like being back in the RAF."

"I'll say! It's almost as if we're waiting for something interesting to happen. Apparently our lot are due to arrive at Norway today. Do you know if they're already there?"

Joseph shrugged. "I know as much as you do my friend."

"All I know is, Germany is heading towards France hoping for an invasion but the way things are going, I doubt we'll even have to fight them off." Grimshaw grumbled.

"Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?" Joseph asked through narrowed eyes, his tone slightly aggressive, "What do you think would happen if Germany invaded France? Why do you even think they want to anyway, what's waiting for them on the other side?"

"Britain." Grimshaw answered simply, "But first they'd have to get through us and I'd love to see them try!"

"Don't tempt fate Toby." Joe warned in an icy tone, "We don't know what's going to happen, we never do."

Grimshaw hesitated for a beat, chewing his lip nervously. "Captain can I ask you something?"

Joseph looked up and smiled weakly, "Of course."

"Do you ever wish you stayed in the RAF? I mean, from what I've heard and from what's being said around here - you worked so bloody hard to get your wings. You would have been what - Flight Lieutenant Crawley? " Grimshaw stated with emphasis. Joseph nodded slowly. "Now you traipse around the mud with us, sleeping in tents and ditches. Not the pleasant accomodation that those pilots are entitled to. I suppose what I'm asking is - do you regret joining us?"

Joseph contemplated his question thoughtfully. "I don't regret it for a second. But if I'm speaking out of honesty, sometimes I do find myself wondering how differently things would be if I had just stuck to flying spitfires instead of driving tanks. You see when conscription was brought back and war seemed inevitable, I pulled myself out of University and enlisted in the army so I could be ready. But then I became very attracted to the glamour of the RAF, so many of my friends from Cambridge had joined up and tempted me into joining them and I didn't find reason to complain. It was a fantastic opportunity for me to contribute to this war. So after my training had been done and war still hadn't been announced, I joined them, completed all my exams, recieved my wings and then literally three days later..."

"Chamberlain announced war." Grimshaw finished.

"Exactly." Joseph said with a curt nod. "I paraded up and down my village in this uniform but it was just for show. I don't think they really understand the RAF to be honest." He added in a disgruntled fashion. "My uniform's still kept in my wardrobe back at home. All ironed and pressed, never even used, well - not properly anyway."

"Well the force is fairly new if you think about it." Grimshaw said softly, "I mean it was only formed towards the end of the last war. We're the luck ones."

"That's what my father told me when I decided to transfer." Joseph replied with a small smile, "I don't think he understands the intense nature of pilot training."

"So you're a real pilot?" Grimshaw asked in awe.

Joseph chuckled with embarrasment, "I - I suppose I am. Yes."

"Will you ever go back to them do you think?"

Joseph felt the sharp clench in his stomach at the question. Of course it was a question he asked himself many a day. "Well - obviously I'll have to see won't I? Decisions aren't really my best friend."

"I still don't see why you left." Grimshaw responded in disbelief.

Joseph laughed, "You will. Someday."

Grimshaw just rolled his eyes, "Whatever you say Captain. I'll leave you to your letter."

Joseph watched him leave, shaking his head in a disgruntled fashion. Turning back to his letter, he thumbed open the envelope with excitement, a small smile gracing his face as he unfolded the creamy slip of paper with the Grantham emblem embedded on the top, reminding him fondly of his home.

_My Dearest Joe_

_I wish with all my heart that this letter contains good news for you to read but sadly that his not the case. I've been waiting for so many days to tell you but somehow I just couldn't find the right words. In the end I decided to just write it like it is._

Joseph's heart plummeted while the smile swiftly vanished from his face. Oh God, had something happened to Benji, or his sisters? Or Edward?

_I debated whether or not I should even write this to you but your Granny encouraged me to do so, stating that it is best you hear it from me and not through the grapevine which you might have done already by the time this letter finds itself to you._

No, no he hadn't heard anything relating to home. What was so terrible that his father had to break it to him in a letter?

_If that is the case then I am so very sorry my dear boy. But if not then, please be strong for what you are about to read._

Joseph fought to swallow the nervous lump which was rising in his throat wishing his Papa would just get straight to the point. God, his father didn't half ham things up.

_On 17th of March, the day after Eddie's birthday we received some terrible, heart-breaking news at church. It seems that Jack Andrews, our dear friend has fallen victim to this war and has passed away._

Tears burned the back of Joe's eyes. His lips quivered in trepidation as he re-read his father's words, desperately trying to wish it untrue. 17th of March... why that's nearly a month! Why did it take him so long to get notified?

_His family are naturally distraught and our family paid them our respects, knowing how much you and Jack were good friends._

Were good friends. Were. Past tense. We'll always be good friends, Joseph thought fiercely, no matter what happens.

_If this is hard for me then I can only imagine how hard it must be for you to bear. I don't know how many friends or comrades you've already lost out there, that feeling, I can understand. But this is the first friend whom you have known since childhood and I cannot comprehend the feelings of loss behind that._

_Please keep your chin up my boy and try to stay strong for your own sake. We're all thinking of you and our love is always with you wherever you go._

_Lots of love_

_Papa_

_P.S. By the time you recieve this, Eddie will be training at Sandhurst._

"Here, you'll never guess what my Dad's gone and done…Captain Crawley? Captain Crawley?" Lieutenant Grimshaw's concerned voice sliced into Joseph's haunted thoughts. "Are you all right? You're as white as a sheet!"

Joseph scrunched up the letter in his fist, his mind completely numb of all thoughts. "My – I've just received news that a good friend of mine, Jack Andrews – has died." He lifted his head up to stare at his Lieutenant, "He's dead. I – I'm never going to see him ever again. And my father waited nearly a damned month to notify me!"

Grimshaw's face melted into compassion, for seconds he was speechless. Then he reached out to grasp his Captain's shoulder. "I'm so sorry Joe mate." He murmured, all formalities dropped, "I don't know what to say. Was he one of us?" Joseph nodded mechanically, his blue eyes wide and glassy. Grimshaw cursed, "Poor sod. God bless him."

Joseph held up the letter. "This. This is why I left the RAF."

Before either of them could say anything more they were interrupted by a loud, animalistic howl from outside. Both boys tensed immediately, Joseph jerked up, his ears perked and his hands gripping his rifle tightly. Crawling out of the tent, they joined the cluster of other soldiers who had emerged from their tents.

"What's going on?" Joseph asked Carmichael, doing nothing to hide the terror in voice, "Are we being attacked?

"I don't think so sir," Carmichael replied with a nervous nod towards Private Hansen's tent, "Hansen's just received some bad news from home."

"How bad?" Joseph asked, glancing at his own letter, scrunched up in his fist.

"Very bad." Private Wakeham drawled, sauntering towards them, "Apparently Liverpool was bombed quite heavily and – well, his wife and children aren't doing so well." He reclined against a tree and casually lit up a cigarette.

"What do you mean they're not doing so well?" Joseph pressed, "How badly injured are they?"

"Oh they're not injured." Wakeham replied nonchalantly, "They're all dead."

An uneasy murmur rippled through the group. Joseph gaped at him, his heart clenching in despair, "Dead? His whole family?"

"That's what I said Captain Downton." Wakeham responded, puffing smoke out, "Their house came tumbling down on them – quite literally like a ton of bricks, I don't think they must've suffered. One quick snuff – didn't feel a thing!"

"Why don't you just show some respect for once in your damn life!" Lieutenant Grimshaw yelled, making a move towards the man but Joseph held him back firmly.

"Don't. Don't get involved Lieutenant Grimshaw. We need to show Private Hansen our support." He said quietly.

They marched over to Private Hansen's tent where Private Jackson and Private Yates were trying to comfort the poor man who sat huddled outside on the damp grass, burying his head in his lap and rocking back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably. The small droplets of rain grew heavier.

"Private Hansen let's get you back inside." Joseph said with kindness, hitching his military jacket onto his head to shield himself from the bullets of rain, "You're no use to anyone if you fall ill."

Hansen just shook his head, saying in a lifeless voice. "I'm no use to anyone anymore Captain."

"Don't say that!" Joseph scolded, his tone smothered with fierce determination. "We need to stick together, all of us. We can help each other through this! But Hansen we need you! We need you to be strong and to fight. You don't want your family to have died in vain do you?"

Hansen's head snapped up with recognition. Using Private Jackson's arm, he pulled himself up with shaking legs and slinging his rifle back onto his shoulder, his face contorted into a look of sheer anger and most of all – revenge. When he spoke it was in a voice of complete and utter despair. "You're absolutely right Captain Crawley. I'll see these bloody murderers through till the end. I'll do that for you, I'll do that for this lot, for England and I'll do that for my missus and my boys." He glared at the floor, tears, mixing with rain, trickling down his face. "And then I'll let them kill me."

Joseph flinched. No one said a word.

They all stood around, their hands clasped together behind their backs in respective desolation while thunder rumbled overhead, warning them all of an impending storm.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	24. The Hand That God Dealt Them

**Author's Note:** Hey sorry for the delay in updating but this chapter has taken forever to write and I want to get some uploaded before I go on holiday on Saturday. But fear not, I'm taking my computer with me and shall be updating as regularly as I can.

Anyway so this chapter deals with a new kind of enemy, the British Nazi supporters which were eerily present during the second world war and will be eerily present in this story too. Also, Mary's trying to help Matthew exorcise some demons at the end of this chapter so a little bit angsty!

So read it and please, tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 24 – The Hand That God Dealt Them<strong>

"You've done what?" Matthew shot out in exasperation, leaping out of his armchair.

"I've joined the Downton Police Force." Georgina answered calmly, sipping her tea with elegance. She was seated gracefully in the library watching her father pace around in agitation.

"Why didn't you consult this with me first?" Matthew asked in thinly veiled annoyance. "Instead of going behind my back and enrolling in secret?"

Georgina glowered at him, "I'm eighteen now Papa, I didn't think I needed your permission. Besides, I knew you'd disagree."

"You - too right I would!" He countered, "I don't want you running around amidst all sorts of crime and mixing with – all kinds of riff raff!"

"I won't be." Georgina replied, doing nothing to shield her disappointment, "I've spoken to DCS Brownlow and I won't be doing anything too dangerous. It's most likely, just detective work from behind the desk." She sighed, "Look Papa I know you wouldn't approve but I have to do my part for the war. And what better than a position close to home! I thought you'd be pleased about that."

"How is working for the police force doing your part for the war?" Matthew asked in light disbelief.

"I'm gaining experience! And while most of the policemen are away I'll be taking over their roles!" Georgina responded with emphasis. "Just because there's a war on Papa, doesn't mean we need to ignore crime."

"I never said we should." Matthew said in a softer tone, "If anything the crime rates would have accelerated in wartime Georgie, that's why I'm not too comfortable with you being involved in all of that."

Georgina tilted her head with an amused smile looking the very picture of her mother. Matthew's hardened expression softened. "Are you really going to stop me Papa?"

Matthew screwed his face up in a disgruntled fashion, "I don't really have a choice do I? You're your mother's daughter, so you're going to continue with it anyway regardless of what I say or think."

Georgina resisted the urge not to laugh at her father's expression. "True, but I still want your support." Matthew just gave her a stiff nod. Georgina broke into a wide grin, leaping out of her seat and kissing her father's cheek. "Thank you Papa, I do love you."

"Just be careful darling." Matthew said with worry, pulling his daughter closer. "These are such unhealthy times that we're living in and there are all kinds of other evils out there. Trust me." His voice started to quiver, his hand caressing his beloved daughter's curls, "I know. Speaking of which, your mother told me about the whole Dominic mystery."

Georgina pulled away from her father with a lost and desolate look glistening in her eye but she tried to protect it with a tight laugh. "Yes, well I suppose this war is proving to be quite a test. In whom you can trust and who you can't. Well, you can be rest assured I won't make that mistake again."

Matthew hated listening to her talk like that, wishing he could just wipe away all the hurt in an instant. "It's all right darling," He soothed, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I'm your father, you don't need to pretend or put up any walls. Not with me."

"It's like I told everyone else," Georgina replied in forced indifference, feeling her stoic demeanour crack at her father's words, "I didn't know him well enough to fall in love with him. So I'm not too upset."

"You knew him longer than Rebecca knew Tim." Matthew responded with a vexed tinge to his voice.

Georgina scoffed, "It was just a phase, she's much better now."

"I hope so." Matthew rested his palm against the fireplace; his head hung low and his voice a mirror of anger. "I'd give anything to see you girls happy. You both deserve so much more than these – these scoundrels!"

Georgina chuckled wearily. "Thank you Papa. But I'm not interested in finding a husband. Maybe if we weren't in the middle of a war it would've been my sole priority, but times have changed now. Putting things into perspective, this is just a minor problem." She smiled, "I don't have the time to deal with liars and phoneys, especially when you think about the horror going on out there."

Matthew released a low breath, full of relief and pride and love. "Where has my little girl gone? She's all grown up and thinking for herself!"

His daughter laughed and wrapped her arms around him again. "I told you I'd always be your little girl, just one with a mind of her own, that's all."

"Matthew!"

Both father and daughter broke apart, staring towards the library door in alarm as Mary's voice rang towards them. She burst into the library, her face etched with worry.

"Mary what in God's name?"

"Oh, Matthew, you must come now, I think you really need to hear this." She gushed, gesturing they follow her out.

"Hear what?" Matthew asked sharply, proceeding to hurry out of the library with Georgina close behind him.

"Rebecca was out walking in the village today and she – just let her tell you herself." Mary pushed open the double doors to the drawing room where Isobel was seated with Rebecca, her head resting on her palm. Isobel stood up as soon as they walked in.

"Matthew, you're back. Good." She said evenly with a quick glance at Rebecca and she sat back down again.

"What on earth is going on?" Matthew asked in a panic stricken voice. "Rebecca darling are you all right?" He was by her side in an instant, "Your mother mentioned that something happened in the village today."

Rebecca sidled a glance at her father, saying with restraint, "Papa, remember when you said that there could be German spies lurking around anywhere? And you told us to always be on our guard if we were to ever come across any of them."

A horrible, sickening feeling gnawed its way through Matthew's stomach. He fought to keep his expression neutral as he said, "Yes."

Rebecca swallowed. "Well, what if they weren't German. What if they were English spies in this country, working for the Germans. Working for the Nazis."

Matthew was stumped. Whatever answer he was preparing himself for, it wasn't that. He shot a bewildered glance at Mary who just raised her brow and nodded. He turned back to his daughter, "What happened today Rebecca?" Matthew asked his daughter with trepidation. "What did you hear?"

Rebecca took a deep breath and recounted the events which had occurred near the bakery, from the conversation to the confrontation. When she mentioned him grabbing her arm, Matthew's blue eyes grew into cold, hard chips of ice and Mary vowed instant hell on the man. But Rebecca made sure to emphasise Tim's precise and welcome timing.

"Tim was there?" Mary interjected quickly, "He saw it?"

"He did a lot more than see it Mama, he saved me." Rebecca said softly.

"And we'll thank him for that," Matthew replied curtly, the anger starting to churn through his body, "But back to you darling. Did he hurt you anywhere else?"

Mary held her stare on her daughter with baited breath. Rebecca shook her head, still feeling very much shaken. Isobel and Mary both breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well that's something I suppose." Isobel muttered.

"No it's not something Mother; that devil manhandled and threatened my daughter! How dare he!" Matthew snapped, glaring at his mother who just held up her hand to calm him down.

"Oh my poor darling." Mary crooned, hurrying to her daughter's side and pulling her into an embrace. "Do you think we should call the police?" She asked Georgina.

"Oh yes," Matthew also turned his gaze towards her, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Maybe your new friend DCS Brownlow can help us with this case. Any ideas Inspector Crawley?"

Georgina rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh, saying with forced firmness, "I know you're very upset Papa but lashing out at me isn't going to help anyone, nor is it going to make the problem go away."

Matthew closed his eyes in shame. "I'm sorry Georgina darling. I didn't mean to snap at you." He whispered, "I knew they were here, in this country, lurking around and causing damage where it hurts the most. It's not uncommon but…" He licked his dry lips and spoke with a crack in his voice, "My God, I just can't believe we have one in this village that's all."

"What?" Rebecca asked, pulling away from her mother and staring in complete shock at her father. "You mean you knew there are Nazi supporters here in England?"

Isobel nodded grimly, "It's shocking but like your father said, it's not uncommon. We don't usually talk about it. There are so many people, mostly the very wealthy and powerful kind of people who admire the way Hitler managed to restore Germany from poverty and they want the same for England, especially in the way it's fallen since the last war and the depression."

"It's not fallen! There's nothing wrong with England the way it is now." Georgina stated with pride, "We know so many aristocratic families and not one of them are Hitler supporters, not a single one!"

"It's mostly self-made people," Mary mumbled with a hint of disgust laced in her voice, "They think that just because they've made their own way in the world, it should be the same for others." Matthew glanced at her but didn't say anything.

"So that's why they support Hitler?" Georgina asked with incredulity, "Just because he managed to raise Germany back from the ashes of poverty? Don't they have enough sense to realize he was planning to wage war on Europe from day one?"

"I don't think they think it's bad though, that's the point Georgie." Isobel said with sadness.

"Of course they don't!" Matthew re-joined in a voice smothered with bitterness, "Just look at Oswald Moseley and the blackshirt gang. Running around London inflicting their fascist ideas to anyone who'd listen and us – upper class folk, are supposed to conform to it because of our superiority among others. Listening to Lord so and so drone on and on about how wonderful life was before the Great War and how much England has fallen since the height of the Empire days! All this yearning for the past England –God, it's making me sick!" He spat. "Well, maybe some of us don't want England to go back to the way it was!" He slammed his hand down on the glass coffee table, forcing everyone present to jump in shock.

Mary swallowed, never had she seen Matthew lose control like that before and especially not in front of his daughters. "Yes well, it's a good job not everyone shares Moseley's views and it's a good job England has people like us fighting for her." She said sunnily, "Otherwise we would have surrendered long ago."

Matthew shot her a look of pure irascibility, she actually cringed. "Don't be so naive Mary. Open your eyes." He purred, "They're coming for us too. As aristocrats we are the main targets. Now we can spit on the swastika and curse Hitler and his cronies until kingdom come, but the point is, once they have you, they have you and they won't let you go until you give in. They're powerful, influential people and can inflict a lot of suffering and pain on our family in order to get us on their side."

Rebecca's heartbeat quickened. Oh God, she hadn't told them exactly who she was had she?

"Well in that case we'll just have to fight them off then won't we?" Mary countered with defiance. "Don't think that you boys are the only ones with fighting spirit."

"But Papa, surely all these supporters will be arrested and charged with high treason?" Georgina asked with some confidence, "According to DCS Brownlow, we – and by we I mean Downton police force, are highly connected to the military intelligence office. If any problems like this arise again we can nip it in the bud before it all comes to a sticky end."

Matthew stretched his lips into a wan smile. "Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea having you inside the police force. It'll be good to know what's going on from their perspective."

"Shall I make myself useful and ask Cutler if luncheon's nearly ready?" Isobel asked warily, proceeding to stalk outside the drawing room.

"Why, is all this talk making you hungry?" Mary asked with a thin smile.

Isobel paused at the lip of the door, heaving a despondent sigh at her daughter-in-law, "No, on the contrary all this talk is making me hanker for a glass of wine."

* * *

><p>After lunch, Mary sought Matthew out in his study. He was seated behind his desk, scribbling away endlessly and refused to look up when his wife stormed in.<p>

"Matthew what was all that about?" She asked in a stern voice, "We don't know anyone who's supporting the Nazi's do we?"

Matthew refused to answer her. He stopped writing but he didn't even look at her.

"Matthew?" Mary repeated in a voice laced with panic, "Who?"

Matthew just shook his head, saying a mere whisper, "You don't want to know Mary. You don't want to know."

"Well - how long have you known about this?" Mary asked, her voice tinged with anger and hurt.

"A while." Matthew answered curtly. "I mean I had my suspicions about some people but all of this today, with Rebecca... it's made me think a little harder."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm writing a letter to the Military Intelligence Office." Matthew said with restraint. "They still owe me a few favours, as I let them use Crawley House. So I'm going to drop a few names and see if they can keep an eye out."

"Darling are you sure that's safe?" Mary asked in concern, her hand flying straight to fiddle with her necklace, "These might be powerful names you're dropping."

"Exactly." Matthew said, his face twisting into sheer anger, "And now I realize that they need to be arrested and locked up. Maybe even hanged."

Mary blanched at the coldness of her husband's tone but she swallowed her fears, taking comfort in the fact that he was merely following his conscience. So she stretched her lips into a smile. "All right. If that's how you feel. Then do it. By all means, do it!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>April 16th 1940<strong>_

Matthew pushed open the door of The Grantham Arms and stepped in with careful consternation. Ever since Rebecca had mentioned the incident, it had been stirring through his mind. He glared around at the men seated casually amongst the tables, chattering to one another. Some were soldiers, others were older men and some were young men who, for some reason hadn't been called up yet. It could be any one of these men, Matthew thought in fury. Rebecca was positive that it wasn't anyone she recognized from the village so that meant he must have been an outsider.

John Alexander looked up in surprise from the glass he was polishing as Matthew sauntered up to the bar. "Lord Grantham!" He exclaimed in welcome, tinged with trepidation, "I haven't seen you in here before? Would you like pint of bitter?"

"I'm not here for a drink Mr Alexander, I was actually wondering if I could have word with your son, Tim?" Matthew asked as politely as he could muster.

John's face paled. The hand which was clutched around the glass tightened, "May I ask why?"

Matthew shrugged, "I have something I need to talk him about. Something concerning one of my children."

John swallowed anxiously, leaning towards Matthew and dropping his voice to a low whisper, "Look, Lord Grantham, my son didn't mean to lose his temper like that. I'm sorry he took it out on Mr Edward but – it was a spur of the moment and he was punished for it. It was a month ago and I guarantee you, Timmy has learned his lesson. It will never happen again, I can assure you."

Matthew just nodded slowly, "Do you always let your son gamble in the pub after hours?" He knew he had to choose his words carefully as his own son wasn't exactly a martyr in the situation either.

John tried to laugh off Matthew's question, "You know what boys are like. What can you do? Tim's always been very headstrong, does what he wants when he wants. I told him he could wait until he's eighteen and then be conscripted but he, like many others, refused. Says he can't just sit back and watch this country fall to pieces when there's something he can do about it." Matthew looked away, remembering Edward. "Anyway he's always been very handy with cards. Quite the magician, I keep telling his mother that it'll come useful when he's out -" He broke off, his voice cracking.

Matthew's stoic conduct melted away in an instant. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, no my lord!" John dismissed, wiping away the errant tears which pooled at the corners of his eyes, "I'm just feeling the pressure, you know. Tim's my last boy. I want to keep him home as much as possible."

Matthew nodded in understanding. "I know you do. I want to do the same but, like you said, with all this going on, splashed all over the papers, they can't just sit back and do nothing, whether they be sixteen or sixty. I would've done the same thing given the circumstances. In fact, I did."

John looked up, his eyes wide and glassy. "Me – me too." He pulled up his sleeve, revealing the ghost of a deep, encrusted scar which had been indented into his flesh. "It's always going to haunt me, for the rest of my life."

"I know." Matthew whispered, the faded bruise which troubled his spine for the past twenty-two years would also haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Sorry, you wanted to see Tim." John shook his head distractedly, clearing the awkward atmosphere between the two men, "He's out back, changing the barrels. Feel free to just – wonder through."

"Thank you." Matthew smiled thinly and left the barman to polish the glasses, lost in his own thoughts. He steeled himself together and entered through the adjoining room, into the cellar. He saw Tim bent over the kegs, banging the nozzle into place. As soon as Matthew walked in, Tim cocked his head towards him but didn't turn around.

"Dad, the fobbing tube might be blocked, I think it needs clearing." He said blandly, fiddling with the coupler. "Can you go back and pull the pump again?"

Matthew cleared his throat loudly forcing Tim to whip around. His eyes glazed over as he saw Matthew standing there, hands in his pockets, staring at him. "Hello again Timothy."

"Hello Lord Grantham," Tim replied in a cool voice, "What brings you to our humble abode?" He turned on the keg tap to drain out the dregs of foam.

"I – I wanted to talk to you about something that happened yesterday." Matthew said loudly, over the hissing sound. He rubbed his temple jadedly, "Could you please, turn that off for a second."

Tim screwed his lips up and obliged the Earl, turning towards him and folding his arms. "So, I take it we're not going to beat around the bush. We both know how much you hate doing that." He smirked. Matthew's eyes narrowed. "Is this about what happened with Lady Rebecca?"

"Yes -"

"Look, I was just walking past the bakery and I saw that man had grabbed Lady Rebecca by the arm and from the way he was leering at her, it looked quite threatening." Tim said steadily, "I couldn't just leave her alone in that predicament could I?"

"Of course not." Matthew replied calmly, "I respect you for that Tim. In fact I came over here to thank you."

Tim just shrugged with indifference. "It was no trouble Lord Grantham. Really."

Matthew rootled around in his pocket and extracted his chequebook and pen, hastily scribbling down a figure and handing it to a bewildered Tim. "Would that suffice as a reward?"

Tim stared at the bill in Matthew's open hand, his face etched with disgust. "You think I want money from you?"

"It's just a reward settlement Tim." Matthew said casually. "I'm not trying to pay you off or anything."

"Well I don't want it." Tim said harshly. "Now was there anything else? Cause I have to get back to work."

Matthew's lips thinned into a grim line. "There is as it happens. This man, the one that put his filthy mitts on my daughter, who is he?"

Tim sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes flickered with compassion but it vanished quickly. "I – I don't know."

"Don't lie to me Tim." Matthew warned, "You can't protect my daughter and him at the same time. Who is he?"

Tim licked his lips nervously. "I'm not protecting him it's just... His name is Jude Fanshawe. And he's not someone you want to cross."

"I'll make that decision." Matthew replied thinly, then frowned. "Jude Fanshawe? I recognize that name."

"He's quite a powerful figure if you know what I mean Lord Grantham." Tim said in a voice tinged with amusement. "I think he runs a secret organisation with the headquarters located nearby. But I don't want to get caught talking about such things. People might get the wrong end of the stick and I really can't deal with all that right now!"

"I understand." Matthew said absently, "Timothy do you know where he is now?"

"Well, he stopped by here yesterday with his tart of a wife, asking for a room but after what had happened with Lady Rebecca, I told my Dad to tell him to do one!" Tim said in a voice laced with pride.

Matthew nodded in approval. "Good."

"So I don't know where he's cleared off to. I don't even know where the headquarters are."

Matthew sucked in a sharp breath and released it very slowly, his mind plotting with all kinds of new vengeance. "Well, I'll find him."

"Lord Grantham, it might not be that simple," Tim said worriedly.

"Oh I'll find him." Matthew replied casually, "I'll find him even if it means I'll have to break down every door between Downton and Ripon." He smiled, "Thank you Timothy for your help and good luck to you."

Matthew turned to leave the cellar.

"Lord Grantham."

Tim's hesitant voice stopped him. He turned around to face to young man with a quirked brow. "Yes?"

Tim shuffled, "Lady Rebecca's all right after what happened. Isn't she?"

"She's fine." Matthew answered formally. "She's a little shaken but she'll pull through it."

Tim just smiled and nodded. Matthew turned on his heel and left the cellar, shutting the door firmly behind him.

* * *

><p>Later that evening when everyone had retired to bed and Mary had settled Benjamin, she padded down the dimly lit hallway to her and Matthew's bedroom. She paused briefly outside the door before pushing it open with great care. The curtains had been left open, welcoming the moonlight to spill into the bedroom. Matthew was seated on the love seat, his legs stretched out in front of him, while his glassy eyes stared out of the window.<p>

"Matthew?" Mary asked uncertainly, stepping into the room, unsure of whether to turn on the lights or leave him be. "Darling are you all right? We hardly heard a peep out of you at dinner and you didn't seem to want to listen to the wireless after. There have been more British landings in Norway, north and south of Trondheim. But it's not Joe's division." She took a step closer towards him when he didn't answer, saying brightly, "Speaking of Joe - I recieved a telegram from him and apparently he's due some leave this week and Eddie's visiting from Sandhurst. We'll be together again." Still no response. She dropped her voice to a mere whisper of concern, "Matthew, talk to me, what's wrong?" Mary reached out her hand and touched his shoulder.

Matthew didn't react to her touch at all. "Mary." He started in a scared voice, sounding almost like a frightened little boy, "Tell me - are these the same skies? The same moon that's watched over us for thirty years? Is it the same? Is it?"

Mary's heart clenched at the sound of his insecurity. Matthew, the gallant husband, father and protector. Now he seemed so helpless, so vulnerable. "I think so." She answered timidly, kneeling in front of him. "Why darling?"

"I don't understand this." Matthew let his head drop into his palm. "This war... It's all about power and control."

"Yes I know." Mary replied in a voice laced with sorrow. She stroked his soft strands of hair with her thumb, "And it breaks my heart every day. But we need to stick together and be strong Matthew. We need to do that."

Matthew shook his head, his throat too tight to speak. "I can't." He choked. "I can't pretend to be strong and brave when really - I'm a faliure to our boys."

"No you're not!" Mary snapped, "Don't you dare say anything like that ever again!"

"You said it yourself, remember?" Matthew said with a small laugh. "The night before Joe was set to leave for the RAF and I had mentioned that I tried to fight for a better life for them. Do you remember what you said?"

Mary tore her face away in complete shame. "Oh Matthew, you know not to pay any attention to the things I say, why take that to heart? I was upset and I didn't know what I was saying."

"No, no but you were right Mary!" Matthew responded with an eerie smile, "What did I do it all for? Look at us now, twenty years on - what's changed hmm? Same war, same enemy and my children are being forced into it!" He ticked them off with his fingers and then shook his head, saying in a voice dripping with sourness, "This one's worst though. Much, much worse. People are being dragged out of their homes, their families being torn apart and for what? Because they're Jewish! The whole thing is bloody sickening!"

"All right, you listen to me." Mary grasped her husband's hands firmly in hers and forced him to look at her, "This war is not your fault. Matthew, you did not start any of this. This is the hand that God has dealt us and we need to just try and accept it with as much strength as we can muster. And don't you ever say that you're a failure to our boys because your not! You're like a hero to them. I mean my God, Joe - he - he holds you on a pedastal!"

"Well I'm not doing a very good job with our boys so far am I?" Matthew asked evenly. "I've got one son who pulls out of the greatest opportunity he could've had in this war and went running to the frontline. And I've got another son who's so far gone he has to turn to gambling to channel his sorrows."

Mary shook her head, "No. Joe had his own reasons for leaving the RAF and as for Edward - well, I wouldn't say he's far gone. Not by a long shot."

"That's easy for you to say Mary." Matthew said in a voice leadened with despair, "He doesn't hate you. He doesn't constantly look at you with scorn and contempt."

"Edward doesn't hate you." Mary retorted in a hush, "Matthew he loves you more than anything."

Matthew just nodded dejectedly. "Of course he does."

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	25. On Wings of Valour

**Author's Note:**Well this is the last chapter before I go on holiday and just two hours left till London 2012! Anyway I promise to update as much as I can but if I can't for whatever reason I've left you with a nice, long chapter to keep you going! So in this chapter - our boys are back! And I promise to write more about Edward/Clarissa in the next chapter but I'm focusing on Joseph/Matthew for this one because of the - event that's coming.

So read it and please tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 25 - On Wings of Valour<strong>

_**May 2nd 1940**_

The couple of weeks following Matthew's semi-breakdown proved to be a great test concerning his and Mary's marriage. He never relayed back to that night all though there was always a mutual understanding between the two of them and if anything it brought them closer together.

However their marriage was tested yet again once Joseph returned home to them. The boy that had once left his childhood home returned a young man who had seen too much for a lad his age. Those innocent blue eyes which had once shone with so much warmth and gaiety were melting away to be replaced with bleakness and fear. Edward had wrote them as often as he could mentioning the sufficient progress in his training and announcing that he too would be allowed a visit back home before he went back, coordinating it so that he arrived at the same time as Joseph.

On the morning of their arrival, Matthew drove to Downton station to pick up his sons. While he drove, he couldn't help but remember the conversation he had had with Joseph, one which changed both their lives forever.

_**April 10th 1939**_

_"So Joe, are you pleased to be back for the weekend?" Matthew asked his eldest son as he happily trundled their Rolls Royce through the pleasant country roads on their way back to the Abbey, the warm Spring sun beaming gently down on them._

_"Of course. I'm always pleased to come back home, you know that." Joseph answered with a small smile, staring out at the fluffy pink tufts of blossoming trees which sailed past his window._

_"And how's University going?" Matthew asked, unable to keep the tinge of pride away from his voice._

_Joseph shrugged breaking his gaze from the peaceful countryside, "It's all getting rather tedious actually." He muttered in a hollow voice, fidgeting with his cuffs._

_Matthew frowned in confusion, "Why? Last time I saw you, you said that everything was going so well. You said that your classes were continuing nicely and the rowing team was progressing better than ever. And you seemed so sure of beating Oxford in the races this Summer." He added with a smug smirk. Joseph sighed while his father rambled on, "I knew that one day all those rowing sessions in the lake would finally pay off."_

_Joseph chanced a glance at his father before saying in an even voice, "Yes Papa, I did say those things. But that was long before war seemed inevitable."_

_The smile promptly vanished off Matthew's face. The pleasant atmosphere between them had shifted to thick tension._

_"And anyway," Joseph continued in a bland tone, pointedly ignoring his father's full silence. "None of this – my classes and these silly boat races. It doesn't matter when you think about what's going on all over Europe. There isn't going to be peace with Britain, it doesn't matter what anyone says, it's all talk. Did you know that his country has brought back conscription this month? Now why do that if there isn't going to be a war on the horizon?"_

_Still Matthew said nothing, though his heart was beating erratically and his mind was stirring with horror. He wasn't an idiot. He was an MP for Christ's sake he knew exactly what was going on in Europe and he knew exactly what his son was going to say before he even said it. It was one of things that you could see heading towards you from miles away but felt completely powerless to prevent it from hitting you._

_Joseph took a deep breath and blurted it out before his father could stop him. "Papa I'm joining the army."_

_Matthew swerved the car off the road and pulled it onto the grass. He drew up the handbrake and turned to glare at his son who cowered slightly in his seat. "You're doing what now?"_

_Joseph tried to straighten up and stare his father down. "I'm sorry to tell you like this Papa. It hasn't been an easy decision but I've been thinking, if I join up now, there might be some benefits."_

_"You're eighteen Joe." Matthew said with as much emphasis as he could. "You're not – not built for such things."_

_Joseph's eyes grew small and hard. "Why?" He asked in a tone dripping with ice, "Because I'm an aristocratic rich boy who's only exposure to a hard knock life include cricket and rowing?"_

_"That's not what I meant and you know it." Matthew countered with controlled patience. "What about school?"_

_"Oh don't worry." Joseph said airily, "Apparently, I'll still be able to continue studying and training at least while no official decision has been made. I'll still be able to see final exams through, if that's what you're worried about."_

_"It's not." Matthew responded with forced calm, "I'm not sure if you'll be able to handle juggling both - occupations."_

_"Well, if nearer the time, things go from bad to worse then I only have one option don't I?" Joseph replied softly. "I'll have to leave University and dedicate myself full time to the war effort. That way when war does, eventually break out. I can leave straight away."_

_"With the army?" Matthew asked in a tight voice._

_"Maybe. Or - or the RAF." Joseph re-joined with a sheepish look._

_Matthew snapped his head towards him, his face etched with disbelief. "The RA What?"_

_"The Royal Air Force," Joseph repeated with prominence, "It's the aerial warfare service of the British Armed Forces -"_

_"No, I know what the RAF is Joseph!" Matthew interrupted with severe impatience, "I just cannot believe that you'd want to join it!"_

_"Papa a lot of my friends are actually joining the RAF in this war." Joseph responded steadily._

_"So that's a reason for you to join up as well is it?" Matthew retorted heatedly, "Tell me Joe, if they jumped off a cliff would you follow them there too?"_

_"I knew you'd be like this!" Joseph breathed in a huff, flipping back in his seat. "It has nothing to do with them Papa, it's all my own decision! I admire the RAF and its growth since its birth at the end of the last war. I think that I could be a great contribution to it given our – well, background and status. I'm a fast learner and a hard worker. I know I'll be able to make my new Air Military career a success if I really want to. Which I do, very much."_

_"But we know nothing about them." Matthew said absently, staring out into the deserted field which they were parked on. "I mean really, how could planes contribute in a war?"_

_Joseph rolled his eyes. "This isn't 1914 anymore Papa." He said cuttingly, "Technology has changed everything and for the better."_

_"Have you mentioned any of this to your mother?" Matthew asked suddenly; worry creeping into the pit of his stomach at the mere thought of Mary's reaction._

_"No." Joseph answered after a beat. "I wanted you to be the first to know."_

_"Right, good, don't say anything to her." Matthew ordered, feeling a morsel of relief. "Not until things progress and we see what happens."_

_"But I can still go ahead with training can't I?" Joseph asked._

_Matthew shot him a cautioning look. "Don't pretend you need my permission Joe, you know you'll just do it anyway nevertheless. If it's what you want then go ahead -"_

_"What I want is some support from my father!" Joseph interjected with slow anger. "It's all I ever wanted when I thought about doing this. I can handle Mama and everyone else. Whether I join the army or the RAF, as long as I have you in my corner Papa, I know I can do whatever it is."_

_Matthew's heart swelled with love for his eldest son after hearing those words. He knew he had no right to chastise him for being brave. Not when he should be feeling so proud and he definitely couldn't leave Joseph alone in all this. "Very well." He said in a sterile voice. "You have my – support. But let's just keep it between us for the time being all right?"_

_Joseph's stoic composure relaxed and he drew his finger across his lips. Matthew nodded in understanding, re-started the engine and pulled away from the field with great difficulty. He continued driving along the path back up to the house, now burdened with much, much more than he had anticipated when he left._

"Joe!" Matthew called in delight, waving at his eldest son who mulled around the platform in a daze, watching the bustle of people hurry amongst the clouds of smoke. Joseph spotted his father and gave him a half- hearted wave, turning to the person next to him who, Matthew realized with a pleasant jolt, was Edward. His second son waved back him, more enthusiastically than his brother. While they walked towards him chatting with each other, Matthew took a moment to admire them. Both boys were smartly dressed in their olive green uniform except Edward sported the smart red-cross band clutching around his upper left arm.

"Papa," Edward greeted with a small smirk, resting his duffel bag on the ground and leaning on it. "Have you enjoyed the peace and quiet of me not being around?"

Matthew quirked his brow. "I presume you've forgotten you're little brother. He's turned into quite the tearaway while you've been gone."

Edward's face drooped in mock disappointment. "Oh no! Alas, I have been replaced."

Joseph scoffed, patting his brother on the shoulder and murmuring in his ear. "No one can ever replace you Eddie. You're much too strenuous to even bother."

Edward just nodded in acceptance. "Good!"

* * *

><p>The drive back home was more quiet than Matthew had anticipated it to be. Neither of the boys said a word except a one word answer to Matthew's forced questions. Joseph leaned back in the passenger seat, watching the lush greenery dance past his window, completely transfixed with the contrast of his life here compared to his life in the barren lands of France.<p>

Edward skulked in the backseat, his arms crossed and his face screwed up in contemplation. "So enough about our lives Papa," He said in a loud voice, "What's going on in the big house?"

"Nothing much." Matthew answered absently, "Except we've lost one maid. Sally's abandoning us now."

"Oh, is she joining up?" Joseph asked with mild interest.

Matthew nodded, "With the MTC. She'll work out the rest of the month and then she's off."

"To fix up a bunch of engines?" Edward chimed in with distaste.

"Well now the men are almost gone, who else is going to do it?" Joseph replied impatiently. "And it's more than just fixing up engines. The Motor Transport Corps are a big contribution to the war. I say good on her."

"Yes, though I am glad for her it does put us in yet another tricky predicament, especially with the women being conscripted too." Matthew sighed. "How we can manage that house without so many servants is beyond me."

"I'm sure you'll manage, you always do." Joseph muttered. "It's not like you're planning to entertain anyone is it?"

Matthew shook his head stiffly. "All that has disappeared with the war. And when we do have your mother's little – soairees – they understand our situation. We have a cook and a butler and a housekeeper, that's all we need."

"Speaking of women conscription, Mama mentioned something about Georgina joining the police force?" Edward said in a voice smothered with aversion. "Tell me that was a joke?"

"It isn't I'm afraid." Matthew replied in amusement, "She made the moves all by herself without any encouragement from me. I think she wants to be close to home."

"What does she think she's going to gain from doing that?" Edward asked incredulously, "How are handcuffing mindless idiots all day contributing to the war effort?"

"Well you'd be surprised." Matthew said thinly, "Apparently they're quite connected to the Military Police Force and in wartime you never can be too careful."

Joseph cocked his head towards his father in sharp recognition. "What do you mean by that?"

Matthew glanced at him quickly, "Nothing, just that there are all kinds of criminals out there now and the law has altered in order to accommodate the war. The military have the upper hand."

"Are they the only people that have the upper hand?" Edward asked his father, watching his reaction carefully through the wing mirror.

Matthew frowned, "What do you mean?"

Edward raised his brow in question. "You tell me? Are you sure nothing else has happened whilst we've been away?"

"Positive. Why?"

"Only I received a letter from Rebecca about a week ago." Edward said with forced nonchalance. Matthew tensed, his hands gripping the steering wheel. Edward flicked his eyes towards his father's reflection, "Haven't we all been busy little bees?"

"Wh – what's going on?" Joseph asked, twisting himself round to face his brother, "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Ask Papa." Edward replied curtly.

"Papa?" Joseph demanded, his blue eyes blazing, "What happened?"

Matthew released a rattling breath, his eyes closing briefly. "Rebecca was harassed by a Nazi sympathizer." There was no point in trying to sugar coat anything. Not with the boys. They knew too much already and quite frankly, Matthew was growing tired of sweetening every disgusting detail this war spat out at them.

"Jesus." Joseph breathed, "Who?"

"Jude Fanshawe." Matthew replied with disgust.

"The MP?" Edward asked, his dark eyes widening. "He's a Nazi supporter?"

Matthew nodded grimly. "And he's not the only one. There's more of them out there. People – people I know, people we all know."

Edward scoffed, "Well I knew that! Members of the rich and very rich who think they can rub shoulders with all the wrong kinds of people!"

Matthew didn't respond to that.

"Have you done anything about it Papa?" Edward asked.

"I've written several letters to the Military Intelligence Office informing them of my suspicions. Funnily enough they're already keeping an eye out." Matthew answered evenly.

"So are you working for the Military Intelligence Office now?" Joseph asked in awe.

Matthew shot his son a teasing grin, "Even if I was Joe, you know I couldn't say. I signed the National Secrets Act and everything I do from now is highly classified!"

Joseph laughed, "That means yes! So you're a spy?"

"I'm not saying anything, I told you!"

Edward pursed his lips and didn't say one more word until they pulled into the driveway.

* * *

><p>Mary heard the crunch of gravel from the drawing room. "Oh the boys are back!" She exclaimed to Georgina with great excitement, both of them running out of the room, giggling.<p>

Edward was first to race into the house, "Mama! Georgie! Look at me!" He cried out in delight, sweeping his mother and sister up in a strong embrace. "I'm officially a soldier now." He straightened up proudly, back straight, head held high.

"Yes and you've certainly become very strong." Mary said in admiration, her eyes twinkling at the sight of Edward in his uniform. She caressed the red-cross band on his arm, her heart soaring with pride.

"Do you like it Mama?" Edward asked softly, watching her reaction. "Do you think it suits me?"

"Definitely!"

Georgina rolled her eyes, "I have a feeling we're never going to hear the end of this one."

Edward did a double-take, only just noticing his sister now standing before him, dressed head to toe in a midnight blue, policewomen's dress set with collar, a whistle and a police cap resting casually atop her neatly pinned hair. "Gosh Georgie." He breathed, in an even tone, "Never mind me, look at you. You actually look smart."

Georgina adjusted her hat and grinned, "Do you think it suits me?"

Edward just gave her a wry smile, noticing some people missing. "Where are the others?"

"Well, your Granny is at hospital, Benji is at school and Rebecca's not feeling well." Mary answered, glancing past him, "Is your brother still outside?"

Edward nodded, "He's still dragging his feet."

Mary scurried outside where her eldest son was reclining against the car, chatting to Matthew.

"Joe!" She called out gleefully.

Joseph whipped around in surprise, his face brightening. "Mama!" He rushed to embrace his mother.

Mary clutched her eldest son tightly to her, grateful for every moment she had with him. "I'm so glad you're back." She kissed his wan cheek, feeling the taunt bones beneath her lips. Startled, she pulled away and scrutinized his emaciated and exhausted appearance. Skin which was once so rich and creamy now stretched like paper over his taut bones, all colour completely drained from his once rosy cheeks. "My, my how thin you've become." She tried to joke, doing everything she could to keep the intense worry out of her voice.

"I just need to eat Mama." Joseph replied with fatigue. "And I need some sleep too. It's been a very – intense week."

"Of course, of course darling." Mary said in a fluster, "Your room has already been prepared so you go on ahead. I'll bring you up some tea later."

"Thank you." Joseph hesitated briefly before re-entering the house. The familiar smell of the foyer hit him hard, bringing back a hundred of pleasant memories. He hoisted his kit bag back on his shoulder and silently trooped up the grand staircase, tracing the familiar steps to his room.

* * *

><p><em><strong>May 3rd 1940<strong>_

"So what's Thomas – I mean General Barrow like?" Mary asked her second son with intrigue. They were seated comfortably in the library, sipping weak tea and munching on homemade biscuits.

Edward's face merged into a look of intense dislike, "He's probably the most unpleasant person I've ever had the misfortune to meet and that's coming from me!"

"What's he done?" Mary asked in trepidation.

Edward chuckled darkly, "Well put it this way. I wouldn't spit on him if he were on fire."

Mary's eyes widened in shock at her son's vulgar attitude, "Edward Crawley, don't say things like that!"

"In fact, I might get done for insubordination if he carries on the way he does," Edward continued in a flippant voice.

"Edward don't talk like that!"

Edward just shrugged nonchalantly, examining his fingernails, "I only meant that I'd lock him up in a pyramid or something. That wouldn't count as mutiny would it?"

"Edward Samuel Crawley you take that back!" Mary chided.

"Look, I'm sorry Mama but you should see the way he talks – no, no barks – at the others. He has no respect for us or the cause at all!" Edward took a sip of tea and nearly spat it back out, "God what is this mess! It tastes like toilet water!" He slammed the cup back onto the table and dabbed his lips with a napkin. "And why the hell is there no sugar?"

"We're trying to cut down on the amount of tea we can drink." Mary explained with sympathy, "And we're trying to be sensible in what we use our sugar for. We don't want to waste our ration coupons."

"Right, but we can drink milk by the bucket load?" Edward asked with narrowed eyes, indicating the large jug perched beside the teapot.

"Given the fact that it comes from cows on our farms -yes." Mary answered in a clipped voice.

Cutler swiftly opened the door, marching into the library. "Beg your pardon m'lady but I was wondering if I should tell Mrs Plum to get dinner ready now?"

Mary glanced at the clock, "Oh yes. Remember Cutler we're seating eight today." She added with emphasis.

He gave her a crooked smile, "Of course m'lady." And he quickly departed leaving Edward to frown curiously at his mother who was trying to cover up her guilty smile with her teacup.

"Is Grandmama coming for dinner?" He asked.

Mary shook her head, "No, no, not tonight." She tried to plaster on a false look of decorum.

Edward's frown deepened. "But isn't Georgina supposed to be working late tonight?"

"I believe so." Mary mumbled into her cup, her cheeks flushing.

Edward's brow furrowed in suspicion, "So why did you tell Cutler to set eight places? Who else is comi -"

The door to the library swung open once again, Cutler side stepped in, announcing formally, "Lady Clarissa Deveroe."

Edward leapt out of his seat like a scaled cat.

Clarissa strode shyly into the room, her hat clutched nervously in her hands. Mary stood up instantly and glided towards her. "Clarissa! So wonderful you could come!" She kissed both her cheeks in welcome.

"Hello Lady Grantham." Clarissa shot a furtive look at Edward who was fidgeting in the corner, "Hello Edward."

Edward stretched his lips into a very forced smile. "Hello Lady Clarissa."

"I wish you'd just call me Clarissa." She chuckled, "We've know each other how long?"

"So I trust your family is well?" Mary interjected, rightly fearing her son's sardonic response, "How is your mother and George?"

"Oh very well, George is coming home tomorrow." Clarissa replied happily. "I can't wait to see him again, it's been so long."

"I know how you feel my dear, Joe has just returned from France today." Mary said in an understanding voice. "Maybe you could bring George here? I know Joe would like to see him and so would Edward?" She turned to her son, "Wouldn't you darling?"

Edward released a low, angry breath, not sure which was worse. Being forced into making polite, useless conversation with Clarissa Deveroe or being called 'darling' in front of her. He glowered briefly at his mother before saying in a tone dripping with mockery. "Oh of course I'd like to see him again, I just can't think of anyone else I'd rather see!"

Mary glared at him. Fortunately Clarissa missed the sarcasm in his voice for she beamed. "I'll ask him then. I'm sure George would love to see you again Edward."

Edward groaned inwardly. Really, what would it take to get through to this girl?

"Do you like horses Clarissa?" Mary asked in a light tone.

Edward tensed his jaw in fury, knowing exactly where this was going and decided to intervene before things escalated for the worse. "Oh Mama, Clarissa doesn't want to be bored with talk of horses!" He interrupted quickly.

"Nonsense." Mary said in an underlying tone of glee, "I'm sure she'd love to see Chestnut." She smugly turned back to the girl, blatantly ignoring her son's warning scowl. "That's Edward's horse you know. Maybe he'd show him to you."

"Oh I love horses!" Clarissa squealed prompting Edward to close his eyes for a split second in defeat before plastering on a painful smile and forcing his head into a mechanic nod of agreement.

"That's settled then," Mary sung, clearly enjoying Edward's growing discomfort, "You two have fun."

"Yes, but first Mama I'd like a quick word outside if you don't mind," Edward said through gritted teeth, still maintaining a stoic smile.

"Oh but I must – check on – my azaleas and you don't want to keep Clarissa waiting." Mary said hesitantly, backing out of the library.

"This really won't take very long," Edward replied threateningly, advancing towards her while still holding his charming smile. Clarissa just blushed whenever he turned his gaze upon her.

"No, I really must insist that you stay and look after Clarissa." Edward stopped abruptly. Mary's eyes gleamed. "Whatever you have to tell me, you can say it after dinner."

"Oh don't worry." Edward said with a menacingly polite grin, "I will." Mary's eyes flickered for a moment before she shut the door on them. Edward turned to Clarissa and offered her his arm. "Let's go and see my horse shall we?"

In a trance Clarissa nodded and clutched onto Edward's arm, allowing him to lead her away from the library. On their way out of the house, they met Joseph trudging downstairs, his eyes slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep.

"Oh Clarissa you remember my brother Joe, Joe remember Lady Clarissa Deveroe?" Edward asked with disinterest.

Joseph just raised his brow at her in recognition. "Uh – of course I remember – yes you're Lord Doncaster's daughter. George's sister?" Clarissa nodded politely. "You'll have to forgive my lack of enthusiasm, I'm feeling quite exhausted at the moment."

Clarissa waved his excuse away dismissively, "No worries. I imagine being in the RAF is complicated and tiresome indeed." Both boys exchanged a glance. "I've read so many stories in the paper about pilots who are always ending up either killed or hurt in dogfights gone wrong."

Edward and Joseph's jaws dropped.

"In fact a friend of my brother's was in the RAF and he crashed just last month." Clarissa continued, oblivious to Joseph's growing despair. "All though he wasn't severely injured thank goodness, he just burnt his back."

"Oh is that all?" Edward asked, trying to keep the derision to a minimum.

Clarissa nodded, "I think it's very honourable that you all manage to support each other through it though. I can't imagine what it must actually be like."

Seeing his brother's face drain of what little colour it had left, Edward interjected quickly, "Actually Clarissa – my brother's not in the RAF anymore. He transferred into the Royal Army about six, maybe seven months ago."

Joseph closed his eyes in disgrace. He actually felt the humiliation burning into skin, scorching through his flesh at each word Clarissa said to him. Her eyes clouded over in shock, she started to profusely apologize but Edward whisked her away before she could say anything else.

Joseph's knees trembled, so much so he had to use the banister to pull himself down onto the bottom step. He buried his head in his hands, his stomach churning with complete and utter shame.

"Joe." Matthew continued down the rest of the staircase, newspaper clutched under his arm. Obviously he had heard everything. He nodded at the door where Edward and Clarissa had disappeared through. "Edward's entertaining I see."

Joseph didn't say anything. Instead he just let his head fall against the bannister with a thud. Matthew sighed, sidling down next to his son and resting his hand on his shoulder.

"It's perfectly natural to have regrets Joe." Matthew said gently, "You're very young. Indecision is part of growing up. It's just unfair to have to make such a difficult decision at your age."

Joseph held out both hands, weighing out his options. "Nothing was happening." He started in a hollow voice. "Nothing was happening in the RAF and we were all just sitting around the headquarters, waiting for something – anything to happen. Looking back on it now, I don't even know what it was we were waiting for. I didn't know it would take time for this war to get properly underway." Matthew closed his eyes at the pain embedded in his son's voice. "Then this transfer came through and I felt it was a sign for me to change and contribute. I didn't even think about the amount of important air training I had just thrown away or the wings I had worked so hard to earn. I didn't even think about the fact that I was a damn good pilot. All that work, all that preparation, all gone." He clicked his fingers, "Just like that."

"You felt like you had to do leave." Matthew said in what he hoped was a comforting tone even though he had disapproved of his son's decision from the start. "What does it matter if you were a better pilot than soldier? Remember, you said your decisions were all morally based."

Joseph licked his lips and turned his desolate blue eyes towards his father, desperate to relieve the guilt which had been plaguing his mind for months, guilt which spread like a disease, feeding off the deaths or injuries of every fighter pilot that had come into his knowledge between the now and the day he had left. "That's the thing Papa," He said in a voice above a mere whisper. "It wasn't all morally based – not entirely."

Matthew frowned, "What do you mean?" He asked slowly. "You said in your letter and-"

"I know what I said!" Joseph moaned, "But I didn't mean it. The honest truth is that I –I was bored."

"Bored?" Matthew fired out, repeating with emphasis, "You left the RAF because you were bored."

"Well maybe bored is a bit of a harsh word but I didn't feel fulfilled in just sitting around, doing aerobatics and patrolling the skies when nothing was happening. I'm so sorry Papa." Joseph sighed, tears leaking from behind his eyes, "I know I've let you down. But because nothing was going on – I thought this war wouldn't last very long and I thought I should seize my chance to – well, not be a hero per say but – to do my part. "

"I see." Matthew straightened up, his head held high as he glowered at his son, "We've never really had a chance to talk about how the RAF took the news of your – transfer."

Joseph's eyes closed at the disappointment sewn into his father's voice. "They didn't take it very well." He shot a guilty glance at his father, "The argument became rather heated and I was forced to drag your name into it."

Matthew's head snapped towards him, his eyes narrowing. "What did you tell them Joe?"

Joseph glared forcibly at the blood red carpet, seeing only his own destruction. "I just told them who you were – and the amount of power you had in the war office."

Matthew released a low breath of controlled fury. "Right, now it all falls into place. You know I've always had my suspicions in why the RAF would let an experienced pilot whom they've spent months training up, suddenly let him run off to become a soldier. Now I know."

"I'm not proud of it!" Joseph retorted, desperate to edge his own reasoning in before his father turned his back on him completely. "But it had to be done."

"Well I've never been more disappointed in you." Matthew reprimanded, pulling himself to his feet.

"What?" Joseph blurted incredulously, standing up so he was face to face with his father. "Disappointed? You don't have a clue do you? Do you think I haven't had to live with my regret? Knowing I've abandoned my fellow pilots while they risk their necks every night?"

"It's not like you went AWOL." Matthew said wearily, "Let's tone down the dramatics please."

"I'm not being dramatic!" Joseph retorted hotly. "After I got transferred what do you think I've been doing, sitting on my backside all day? This isn't like the last war! We're not pacing up and down a trench, lobbing grenades overhead and hoping it hits something!" He crossed his fingers for emphasis.

"Don't talk to me like that." Matthew hissed, his eyes glittering dangerously. "You have no clue what we went through. We didn't have the technology that you're so fortunate to have now. We didn't even have spitfires then!"

"So is that why you're giving me such a hard time? Because I'm so spoiled for choice in this war!"

"I'm giving you a hard time because from what I can see you thought you saw a better opportunity and you took it!" Matthew responded, his tone dripping with distress. He shook his head, "I thought you were made of stronger stuff Joe. Clearly I was wrong."

"That's not fair." Joseph replied with quiet anger.

"Isn't it?" Matthew countered through gritted teeth, "You need to be told my boy. Indecision seems to follow you around wherever you go."

"What do you mean by that?" Joseph shot out.

"You want to join the army, no the RAF, no the army again -"

"Papa just stop -"

"You break it off with Amelia then you want her back but as soon as you find out she might be with someone else, you give up again!" Matthew stated in frustration.

"Life isn't always black and white like that!" Joseph practically yelled, forcing Matthew to effectively shut up.

"Am I interrupting something?" Rebecca's cool voice cut through the tense atmosphere, she trooped downstairs, her eyes looking gaunt and her cheeks unusually pale. "Only we can hear your little spat upstairs. If you want to argue might I suggest you not do it on the main staircase?"

Both father and son glanced at each other guiltily.

"Sorry darling, did we wake you?" Matthew asked apologetically, "I take it you're still not well."

"I think it's this new meat rationing," Rebecca said in a jaded voice, "It's making me ill. But I fancied getting some fresh air, maybe I'll feel better."

"I'll come with you." Joseph said quickly, "I know I could use some fresh air too. And it'll give us a chance to catch up."

Without so much as a backward glance at his father, Joseph escorted his sister outside. Just as they were leaving, Edward slipped inside, smirking at his brother as they passed each other.

"I'm going to take Clarissa back to her hotel." He explained to his father. He rolled his eyes. "Get this, she –wants me to escort her there on a horse like some prince in a storybook. She didn't say as much but she's as subtle as dropping hints as I am at being voluntarily pleasant."

Matthew nodded absently. "Just be careful Ed."

Edward sidled up to his father, saying in a light voice tinged with amusement. "She feigned feeling ill so she's not staying for dinner, I think she's feeling a bit awkward. We could hear your conversation outside you know, the windows are wide open."

Matthew sighed heavily, "Could you? I'm sorry about that Edward."

"Oh don't be!" Edward said glibly, "If anything it saved me from a lot of pointless conversation, Clarissa actually shut up. I think she feels guilty as she thinks it was all her fault. Which it was."

"Edward!" Matthew scolded tiredly, "Please don't string this poor girl along."

"Don't blame me, blame Mama!" Edward retorted crossly, "She's the one who started all of this! That's why I came back in, to smugly tell her that her little scheme had backfired."

"I fear that still won't stop her." Matthew mumbled with a smile.

"Well we can only live in hope. Are you feeling all right?"

Matthew looked at his son, startled. "Why wouldn't I be? Joe and I have had worse arguments before."

"Yes but Joe was never going off to war after was he?" Edward said pointedly, "I mean I don't have an issue with it if it means I'm now the favourite child…" Matthew's cheek twitched into a grin. "But I do think you should make it up to him before he leaves. France isn't doing too well at the moment and there's talk of an invasion in the coming weeks which might coincide with Joseph's return." Matthew contemplated this fact, his stomach plummeting in despair.

"Anyway I should go and escort her royal highness before it gets dark." Edward mock saluted and trudged upstairs leaving Matthew to stand in the grand foyer, alone and completely unaware of the foreshadowing behind his son's words.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	26. Blood, Toil, Tears and Sweat

**Author's Note:**Well as I promised! I sat tapping this out in the baking Florida sun for you guys but it was a pleasure! This chapter is a build up to the next one which is the big historic event that you'll all find out about at the end of this one!

So read it and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 26 – Blood, Toil, Tears and Sweat<strong>

_**May 8th 1940**_

Joseph Crawley took a deep breath of determination, collecting himself together before knocking steadily on his father's study.

"Come in." Matthew's relaxed voice drove the stake of guilt even more firmly through the young man's heart, remembering the harsh words which had been spoken just a few days ago. Joseph had spent the remaining time of his leave, carefully avoiding any confrontations with his father. Whenever Matthew walked into a room, he'd walk out, whenever Matthew sat down, he stood up and any forced conversation between them usually revolved around the whereabouts of one of the family members. But the more Joseph dwelled on the prospect of leaving, the more he felt the shame of his disrespect, eat away at him, until eventually he had to give in and apologize. He tentatively pushed the door open and shuffled inside.

_**October 19th 1936**_

"_Papa are you in here?" Joseph knocked on the door once and slowly pushed it open. Matthew turned around instantly, his eyes red rimmed and bloodshot as if he had been crying all his tears out. Crying and crying until there was nothing left._

_"Joe." Matthew nodded stiffly, his voice a mere whisper._

_"People keep asking where you are… I'm – I'm sorry did you want to be alone?" Joseph sputtered in embarrassment, one hand clasped around the handle, ready to leave, the other fidgeting with his black tie._

_Matthew quickly shook his head, "No, no come in. I suppose I just needed a small break from everyone asking me about -" He broke off, tears pooling the corner of his eyes. "Oh God." He moaned, as though in pain, leaning on the couch with both arms, head hung in defeat._

_Joseph swiftly shut the door and strode towards his father, placing a strong hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be all right Papa." He said with forced reassurance embedded into his voice. "I know how much you loved Grandpapa and – I know how frightened you must feel about being the Earl of Grantham now."_

_Matthew didn't say anything, just continuing to stare bleakly at the floor._

_"I know because – I'm next in line now aren't I? You're Lord Grantham and I'm Lord Downton. So that means we're like a team. All of us." Joseph bent his head so his father could catch his eye. "And I promise I won't let you down. I'll help you and Mama with whatever you want. You have my word."_

_Finally Matthew lifted his head up to stare at his eldest son who was barely even sixteen, yet already becoming a man. A man that Matthew hoped, would measure up to his maternal grandfather in everything. Matthew nodded with a small smile of hope._

_"All right then Joe." He whispered, using his son's shoulder to help pull himself upright and together. "Let's go and face them then. Together."_

"Joe." Matthew's cerulean eyes flickered with surprise tinged with affection for a brief moment but it was gone within an instant. He turned back to his work, "Can I help you with something?" He asked in a clipped voice.

Joseph released a long held sigh. "I don't want to argue anymore Papa." He said, straightforward and to the point.

Matthew paused. He rested his pen down and glanced towards his son.

"Please," Joseph continued, a hint of desperation hemmed into his voice, "Can't we forget our argument ever happened and just – part on good terms?" He stared at his father, pleadingly, "I should hate to think I left here unhappy because of what happened between us."

Matthew's head snapped up. Almost instantly his own words which he had fired at his wife, months ago, came screaming back to haunt him.

_"You do not want to send our son off to war on unhappy terms."_

"We are supposed to be a team after all." Joseph murmured, his eyes guiltily flicking to the floor, "Some team player I am? I let all my friends at the RAF down but worst of all, I let you down." He looked at his father, "I'm sorry."

Matthew couldn't help the smile of relief from spreading across his face, "You are a wonderful team player."

Joseph smiled sheepishly, "So am I forgiven?"

His father tilted his head to the side in disbelief at the question. How can he even ask that? "Why waste nineteen and a half years of good memories only to be wiped away by a few choice words?" And he stood up with his arms open in a welcoming embrace.

Joseph breathed a grateful sigh before accepting the hug with as much firmness that he could muster. "I'm sorry Papa."

"No I'm the one that should be sorry." Matthew said in a hoarse voice, pulling away so he could look at his son. "In a way you were right Joe. This war isn't like the last one, not by a long shot." He frowned in recollection, "We didn't even know what it was we were fighting for. There was no real cause, not like now. I think back then, the men and their families were affected more than anything – but now, this country and every single person in it are falling apart. There's a new kind of evil out there that are spreading their venom upon everyone. Children being forced to grow up much too soon, thrust into something that isn't even their fight. Like you and your brother. The more I think about it, the more I realize that the last war was a dress rehearsal for this one."

"That's what I was thinking too." Joseph said softly, "And I want to – thank you for being a part of that. It definitely helps us now."

Matthew raised his brow and reclined back in his seat. "I thought you said you do more than just pace up and down a trench and – how did you put it? Lobbing grenades over the top and hoping it hit something?"

Joseph pursed his lips in response. He knew he deserved that.

"But I suppose you wouldn't have trenches now would you?" Matthew asked wryly.

"No." Joseph shook his head, "If we were in a trench the enemy tank would run over to us and pull us out."

Matthew nodded mechanically, "It definitely seems like another world compared to mine. You know, if I could, I would move heaven and earth to keep you at home."

"I know you would Papa. But I wouldn't want you to." Joseph said with resolution. "I may be indecisive but one thing I'm not is a coward."

* * *

><p><em><strong>May 10th 1940<strong>_

Matthew and Edward Crawley sat in their usual seats in the library, discussing the latest news about Winston Churchill replacing Neville Chamberlain as their prime minister.

"I say good on him!" Edward stated firmly, flipping back in his seat and draping one leg casually over his knee, "It's about time this country received a good shake up! I mean really, Chamberlain's practically the reason we're in this mess."

"I don't think we can blame Chamberlain on everything Ed," Matthew replied in an even voice, over the top of his paper. "He tried his best the poor man, we can't fault him for that."

"True," Edward sighed with indifference, "It's just a shame his best led us headlong into a war." He threw his hands up in neutrality, "But, but if you want to keep defending weaklings like him that's up to you."

Before Matthew was about to retort, Rebecca entered the library with a small smirk playing about her lips. "Eddie, Lady Clarissa's waiting for you in the foyer."

Edward's face morphed into mortification, "Again? Jesus, that girl never gives up!" He jolted out of his seat, making a motion to run but without even breaking eye contact with his newspaper, Matthew shot out a hand, grabbed his son's elbow and forced him back down.

"You're not running away this time." Matthew ordered calmly, still focused on his paper.

"So I'm supposed to force myself to make conversation with her am I?" Edward demanded, his face growing red with anger, "And you can stop smirking as well!" He fired at his sister who was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Rebecca elegantly sat down in her favourite corner, smoothing her skirt absently and saying with the utmost glee, "I have no idea what you're talking about, I'm just happy it's such a nice day that's all. Maybe you can ask Clarissa to go for a walk!"

Edward just scowled at her. "I'd like to ask her to go somewhere all right." He stood up roughly, "And I know exactly where -"

"Edward!" Mary poked her head around the door, her eyes wide with excitement, "Lady Clarissa's waiting for you in the hallway." She frowned slightly at her daughter, "Becky didn't you tell him?"

"Oh I told him." Rebecca chortled, not even looking up from her book. "And I told him it was such a nice day for him to take Clarissa out for a walk."

"Now that is a splendid idea Rebecca!" Mary trilled. Edward glared at his sister who had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from laughing, as did Matthew. "Come on Edward, get a move on, you can't keep her waiting."

Edward groaned, trudging towards the door, "Mama why do you keep forcing this? You know it'll come to nothing."

"I don't believe that." Mary said with defiance, "I believe you and Clarissa are meant to be together."

"Oh well that gives me great comfort." Edward responded in a clipped voice as they shuffled towards the foyer where Clarissa was waiting patiently. As soon as she saw him, her eyes flooded with excitement and elation.

"Hello Edward." She gushed, "I'm so glad you're feeling better – I tried to call here yesterday but your butler said you had – the flu?"

"Yes." Edward choked, very pointedly ignoring his mother's glower, "You know Rebecca wasn't feeling very well either and I suppose I just caught the same thing she did. I'm – better now." His voice trailed off feebly as he knew the consequences behind those words.

"Oh good," Mary said with emphasis, "That means you can take Clarissa out for a walk. I'm sure she'd love to see Chestnut again."

"Of course I would!" Clarissa said quickly.

"Well, in that case we should probably go." Edward replied in a voice completely devoid of emotion. Once again Clarissa missed the lack of enthusiasm in his voice for she beamed and allowed him to lead her out of the house.

"So did your brother get off all right?" She asked nervously, "I feel absolutely mortified about what happened here the other day."

"Don't be," Edward said, sewing reassurance into his voice, "My father and brother argued like many a time before. They made up before he left so you have nothing to worry about."

"Oh thank goodness," Clarissa breathed in relief, "I should hate to think they fell out because of me."

"Do you always cause arguments?" Edward asked as lightly as he could.

Clarissa just laughed, forcing him to stare at her in astonishment. It wasn't supposed to be taken as a compliment. "Not if I can help it."

They took a few more paces before Clarissa asked with interest, "How's your training going? Or am I not supposed to ask that?"

Edward shot her a peculiar glance, "Why – why would you not be allowed to ask me that?"

"George doesn't like talking about what he's been up to." She replied in a sad voice, "And he's changed a lot since he left." Without warning she stopped abruptly and grabbed his arm, "Promise me you won't change Edward. Promise me you'll come back exactly as you were. Are."

Edward gaped at her in complete alarm. He must've been staring at her like that for at least three whole seconds before sputtering, "Oh – of course I won't change." He gingerly eased his arm out of her strong grip. "But – um, you know I might not come back exactly as I was?"

Now it was Clarissa's turn to frown. "What do you mean? I thought medics only tended to the wounded and didn't have to fight."

Edward released a very patient breath. He knew he couldn't tell her about the S.A.S. It was an honourable yet classified position which he had accepted without hesitation and he had signed the National Secrets Act. He hadn't even told his father. Yet.

"Yes but I'm still in danger aren't I?" Edward said in a hollow voice, "I'm still going to be amongst all kinds of -"

"Oh let's not talk about it!" Clarissa interrupted with a smile, "Let's not ruin a pleasant afternoon together!"

"No, no let's not do that." Edward replied in a voice laced with sarcasm. She just laughed and took of running towards the stables. Edward flicked his eyes up towards the crisp blue sky, muttering acidly, "All right Great-Granny, you can stop laughing now." He tore off after Clarissa who was already tiptoeing towards Chestnut.

"Be careful!" Edward panted, catching up with her and leaning against the stable door to catch his breath, "He's not used to strangers."

"That's all right," Clarissa cooed, stretching out her hand and gently nuzzling the horse's nose. "Yes, you're a good boy aren't you?" Chestnut dipped his head in response, allowing her to caress his magnificent mane.

Edward watched in complete amazement and curiosity. Chestnut had never been this friendly towards a stranger before. Never.

"I think he likes you." Edward said blandly. "It looks like I have competition."

"I love animals." She shot a small grin at him, "But you already knew that."

Edward bit his lip in embarrassment. That damn cat would probably haunt him into his grave. "I am still – quite sorry about that cat. We were all just children back then."

"Do you remember all the times we used to play out here?" Clarissa asked with fondness.

Edward nodded sheepishly. Was she so intent on making him feel guilty about his stupid childhood stunts. "I'm sorry I threw your doll onto the roof. George and I had a dare you see."

"That's all right, you did try to climb up onto the roof and get it back for me." Clarissa said with an amused smile. "I think that was extraordinarily brave for a ten year old. You must've felt quite bad."

Edward just nodded stiffly, hastening to mention that actually the only reason he attempted to risk his own neck was to stop her from throwing a tantrum. "Unfortunately my parents didn't seem to see it that way. But that doesn't matter, I was quite a rebellious child. I suppose I still am."

Clarissa shook her head dismissively, still stroking Chestnut, "You're just misunderstood."

"Why are you here?" Edward blurted out before he could even stop himself. Clarissa turned around in surprise. "I – I mean why are you here with me? There are so many other, wonderful young men out there. Men who can give you everything you ever want. Men who aren't risking their lives in a few months so – why do you want to be around me?"

Clarissa narrowed her eyes at him, "Where's all this coming from? Maybe I don't want those men."

"Then more fool you." Edward said with a firm kindness, "Because I'm not even the heir. I'm the second son, Joe is the one that's going to inherit all this. Georgina and Rebecca are girls and can have the pick of the field like you can. They can marry well and join another aristocratic family but Benji and I, we're forced to make our own way in this world."

"Good." Clarissa said curtly, turning away from Chestnut but avoiding all eye contact with Edward.

"Excuse me?" Edward replied in disbelief, "Did you just say -"

"Good." Clarissa repeated. "I said good Edward. Think about that."

And with those words she traipsed past him, out of the stables, leaving him to stare forlornly after her. He heaved a sigh and shook his head, feeling a surge of sympathy for the poor girl. Clearly she wouldn't take no for an answer and as a result she'd only have her fragile heart broken.

It didn't matter for him.

People who didn't have hearts, were in no danger of having them broken at all.

* * *

><p><em><strong>May 13th 1940<strong>_

_"We are in the preliminary stage of one of the greatest battles in history... That we are in action at many points — in Norway and in Holland —, that we have to be prepared in the Mediterranean. That the air battle is continuous, and that many preparations have to be made here at home."_

The voice of their new prime minister, Winston Churchill, belted out those heartfelt words from the depths of his soul. Breaking through the speakers of the wireless and echoing around the library. Georgina was kneeling beside her mother whilst Rebecca sat on her usual window seat, her legs tucked underneath her, book open on her lap but for once she paid it no attention. Benjamin sat next to her, muttering to his toy soldiers, oblivious to everything around him.

Matthew sat in his usual armchair, trying to remain dignified throughout Churchill's speech while his mother pretended to arrange the flowers in the corner of the library. Edward paced back and forth in agitation, not really sure what to make of it all.

"We haven't heard anything from Joe in a while; you don't think he's in trouble do you?" Mary asked her husband anxiously.

Matthew just smiled in reassurance but his calm face was nothing more than a mask, shielding his distress from the rest of his family at Joseph's sudden silence.

_"I would say to the House as I said to those who have joined this government: I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat."_

"Oh he's offering that himself is he?" Mary huffed in controlled anger. Benjamin looked up with interest at his mother's tone.

_"We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many, many long months of struggle and of suffering."_

Edward abruptly stopped pacing.

Mary's heartbeat accelerated at those last words, her entire body growing cold with dread. Georgina reached over and clasped her hands over her mother's, squeezing them in comfort. Isobel shot a distraught glance at her son whose head had fallen into his palm, his eyes closed in what seemed to be defeat.

Rebecca caught her brother's eye and gave him a broken smile. Suffering. That was such a painful word. Hadn't they already suffered enough?

_"You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: Victory."_

All the Crawley's snapped their heads towards the wireless.

_"Victory at all costs — Victory in spite of all terror — Victory, however long and hard the road may be, for without victory there is no survival."_

Churchill finished his speech with a thunderous round of applause but Lady Mary just continued to glare icily at the wireless. "Is that the best he's got?" She hissed. "Victory?"

Matthew tilted his head towards her in exhaustion, "Mary."

"How many of his sons are actually fighting?" Mary asked in a shrill voice, "He talks about suffering but what does he know? I mean really!"

"Mary," Isobel interjected patiently, "There was a reason why Churchill was elected to replace Chamberlain. He's a smart man and he knows what he's doing."

"I hope so." Mary replied frostily.

"Why was that man talking about blood?" Benjamin asked, sounding slightly unnerved.

"It's just a metaphor Benji." Edward answered absently, continuing to pace again. He chuckled darkly to himself, "Or so he thinks."

"Edward!" Matthew chided.

"What?" Edward shot back, "Mama's right. To him, it's just a metaphor but – actually, blood, toil, sweat and tears are being offered just not from him! I mean, we might as well stop dancing around on eggshells! We haven't heard a peep out of Joe since the day he left!"

"Edward stop it!" Rebecca scolded, her eyes growing wide with fright at the truth of her brother's words. "Can't you see you're upsetting everyone?"

Edward turned towards his sister with scathing eyes, "Oh well, you're a fine one to talk miss prim and proper."

"Enough!" Matthew barked, forcing everyone to shut up, "There's nothing any of us can do except wait. We can only wait."

* * *

><p><em><strong>May 26th 1940<strong>_

Mary gently knocked on Rebecca's door, pushing it open gently. Rebecca's bed was empty and no one appeared to be in the room. Just as Mary was about to leave, she heard a retching sound emerging from the ensuite bathroom.

"Rebecca!" Mary exclaimed in alarm, rushing to the bathroom where the door was left ajar. Rebecca was on all fours, bending over the toilet bowl, her hair swept into a careless ponytail.

"Oh my poor darling!" Mary crouched beside her daughter and swiftly helped clean her up.

"I'm fine Mama, please stop fussing." Rebecca murmured, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth as she waited for the dizziness to subside.

"Darling you hardly ate a bite at dinner, would you like me to bring you some toast?" Mary asked with concern.

At the mere mention of food, the wave of nasuea hit her again. Rebecca coughed what little watery remnants she had left into the toilet. She managed to lift her head up to glare at her mother. "No!"

"I don't understand," Mary said in puzzlement, helping her daughter to her feet, "You don't seem to have a fever."

"I'm telling you, something is wrong with the meat!" Rebecca protested, rinsing her mouth. "It's been smelling off for weeks and tonight that pork smelled even worse!"

"Our meat rations are fine thank you very much." Mary retorted coolly. "I check them myself when they're delivered. The pork you - didn't eat tonight is from one of the pigs from our farms I'll have you know!"

Rebecca quirked her brow and stalked back into her room, "Well clearly Mrs Plum has a secret scheme going on, so I'll watch out if I were you." She slid into her covers and reached over to pick up 'Persuasion,' from her bedside table.

Mary sat down next to her, reaching out to smooth her golden curls, "You're probably just worried about Joe." She said with a tense smile, her hands clutching the bed covers. Ever since Joseph had left, they hadn't recieved a single letter from him and the whole family were waiting for that - call. "Rebecca I know exactly how you feel." Mary muttered, fighting to keep her growing distress from rising to the surface. "You can't eat, can't sleep, you can't do anything properly."

"That's sounds about right." Rebecca breathed with uneasiness, chewing on her bottom lip. "Because I think I've also been missing -"

"Mary!" Matthew's hysterical and horrified voice tore through house. "Mary!"

Both Mary and Rebecca released frantic gasps, clutching at each other. Mary glanced at Rebecca quickly before leaping off the bed, Rebecca following suit. On their way out, they hurtled into Georgina who was just about to leave for her night shift.

"What's going on?" She asked in alarm, "Papa sounds terrified!"

"I don't know." Mary whispered, clasping both her daughter's hands while fear pumped through her body. She shakily descended the staircase where Matthew was waiting at the bottom, looking as though he was about to be sick.

"Papa!" Edward strode out of the library, his face etched with worry, "What's going on?"

Matthew tried to open his mouth to talk but he couldn't seem to form a single sound.

"Matthew?" Mary prompted, her fragile demeanour about to shatter into a million pieces. "What is it?"

Finally Matthew turned towards her, his eyes glistening with terror. "I've just received a very – careful call from the war office. They have the list of Divisions stranded at Dunkirk. The second and fiftieth Division are pinned down, the first, fifth and forty-eighth Divisions are under heavy attack."

_"Matthew's missing."_

Mary swallowed over the familiar lump of dread rising in her throat, feeling a morsel of grattitude that it was Matthew relaying this news to her. Her beloved Matthew, not Edith.

"Pinned down?" Edward managed to choke.

"From what I could understand – they were cornered." Matthew replied in a raspy voice, "All of them. And they're being forced to retreat."

"Cornered?" Rebecca whispered in fright, tyring to push out the picture that was rapidly forming in her mind. "The Nazis have – have cornered them?"

Georgina clapped her hand to her mouth. Edward's face paled.

Mary shook her head, tears burning the back of her eyes, "Oh my God." She whimpered, feeling Georgina's hand supporting her back and vaguely feeling Rebecca clutching her arm.

Matthew gave her a look, so full of love, so full of regret, but all he could do was force his head into a nod and say, "Joseph is trapped at Dunkirk."

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	27. Never Surrender

**Author's Note:**Well I'm officially back from holiday and I was meaning to post this up before I left, but it was such an intense chapter I spent ages adding things and changing things around. I have actually been to Dunkirk years ago on a school trip when I was like 11 so I was trying to write from vague and very dusty memories. Also, while we're on the subject regarding any tiny historical inaccuracies, it might occur in this chapter but please, please forgive me as the story just wouldn't work without it.

Additionally, this chapter is rated M just to be on the safe side, a lot of graphic description involved!

Anywaaays, this chapter is split into two, you'll find out why ;)

So, enjoy and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 27 – Never Surrender<strong>

_**January 1st 1933**_

_"So how am I supposed to do this?" Twelve year old Joseph grumbled as he fiddled with the heavy rifle in his hand._

_"Watch me carefully Joe," Robert instructed with patience, lifting his own rifle up to a certain angle and taking careful aim while a harmless bird soared overhead. He fired._

_Joseph flinched. "That's rather harsh Grandpapa." He said quietly, watching the bird tumble to the ground where it landed in a sprawled, motionless heap on the floor. _

_"Families like ours have been hunting for years!" Robert exclaimed with indifference, "Now you try."_

_Reluctantly Joseph lifted his rifle and with great difficulty, tried to take a steady aim at the bird which was now gliding above them._

_"Easy, easy," Robert coaxed, leaning cheek to cheek with his grandson and watching the bird tilt towards them. Joseph's finger caressed the trigger, following the bird with the pointed end of his rifle, waiting, waiting… "Fire!"_

_Joseph pulled on the trigger, wincing as he struck the bird and waiting to feel some sort of accomplishment at having done so._

_**May 28th 1940**_

Captain Joseph Crawley lifted his rifle up with casual ease and squinted along the rifle edge, following the enemy plane which was cruising the darkening sky in a steady hum, directly above him. He remembered that very first day at the New Years shoot with his grandfather, when he had shot at a bird for the first time and every time since then. Surely it was the same detail? Hopefully his grandfather would send him some helpful guidance from the heavens in how to shoot down an enemy plane with a measly rifle.

His finger stroked the trigger of his gun but he wasted no time. Once he found aim, he fired watching the puff of smoke stream out of his gun but missing his intended target.

"Damn it!" He cursed, allowing himself to fall limply against the nearest rock where his group were clustered around, all of them along with the other hundreds of men were tripping around the beach like lost souls, waiting for the end which never seemed to come.

They were being toyed with. Here they all were, pinned down and forced to surrender but they couldn't. They wouldn't. Joseph along with his division had spent the past week, fighting back as much as they could. Fighting, fighting, fighting until all they had left were the dregs of energy that they could muster. Then they were told to make their way towards Dunkirk, just follow the pillar of smoke and it should lead you there, that was what they were told. Lieutenant Grimshaw nearly collapsed, his legs were so weak. Joseph along with Private Jackson were forced to drag him the rest of the way. And then just when they thought they had finally found the sacred route home, to England, just when they were about to breathe that long awaited sigh of relief - the Germans honed in on them until they were all cornered and had no way out. All their escape routes were blocked and they had been forced to retreat. What was going to happen to them now? Would they be taken prisoner or just be shot and killed there and then, left to die on the beach like animals.

Now here they all were, stuck on the beach with no means of escape, drunk with fatigue and frail with malnutrition. Joseph stumbled onto the rock and tried to steady himself. Men were spewing vomit all around him, some out of lack of sustenance, some due to injury and some due to the sheer terror of their impending future.

Joseph immediately tightened the strap of his tin helmet, just under his chin. He perked up his gun and fingered the trigger expectantly while his eyes darted to the cliffs up ahead. One thing this war had taught him, was to always be on his guard. The enemy were lurking all around them. His throat still felt so dry but there was no time for water, not now. The knot in his stomach tightened and tightened, his throat was starting to contract as the buzz of aircrafts lingered in the distance. Joseph strained his ears to hear them. Of course it didn't help that Private Hardy was murmuring the Lord's prayer right behind him and Private Yates was suffering a small breakdown right next to him. Joseph laid a trembling hand on his shoulder, "Yates, be brave. You can do this." He muttered. It was all he could say.

Yates just nodded at him, his face wan and his lips white. Then without warning he lurched forward and coughed up his nerves.

"Oh marvellous!" Private Wakeham groaned as his boots were splattered.

Joseph caught Yates quickly before he toppled over, "Hey it's all right. I've got you."

"Sorry Captain," Yates whispered, tears trickling down his face as he gripped tightly onto Joseph's arm. "I just - I just don't want to be here!"

"What and we do?" Wakeham snapped, trying to clean his boots.

"Try not to worry Yates," Joseph soothed, ignoring Wakeham, "They're not going to just leave us here. Help will be on the way soon I promise."

"You're delusional if you believe that Captain Downton!" Private Wakeham drawled. Joseph finally whipped around to glare at him. "Everyone knows this is the end for us!"

"Shut up Wakeham!" Grimshaw hissed, leaning against Private Jackson for support, "Captain Crawley's right. We just have to keep on going."

"Look at you, you can barely even stand!" Wakeham exclaimed angrily, "I say we just give up."

"No!" Joseph snarled, "We are not going to give up, not now we've come so close! To do so will be foolhardy!"

"Staying here and dying like lambs to the slaughter is foolhardy!" Wakeham growled back. He rounded on Major Bellamy who was glowering up at the cliffs. "What do you think sir? Should we stay or should we surrender?"

Bellamy scrutinized Joseph before nodding diligently. "I say we keep on going. We won't surrender, not yet. I think we have a little more battle left in us."

"Yes we do!" Hardy replied fiercely. Wakeham released a low breath of anger, hoisting up his rifle and fastening his helmet.

Joseph gazed back up at the sky. "I think it's clear enough. We can start moving again." He cast a worried look down at his Lieutenant. "You all right to walk Grimshaw?"

Grimshaw nodded slowly, "I'll do it."

"Good." Joseph breathed with a reassuring smile, "Don't worry Toby, you can always lean on m -"

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The young heir shielded his face with his arms and ducked in shock as shots were fired from beyond the cliffs. He grabbed Yates's neck and pulled him down as the bullets flung themselves towards them. All hell broke loose. Everything was happening too fast for Joseph to absorb it. He watched the nearby troops in utter horror and despair as one by one they all collapsed like dominoes, holes erupting through their tin helmets as the bullet met their brain.

"Get down!" Joseph screamed, reaching up to grab Carmichael by the neck and forcing him to the ground, shielding as much of his squad as he could with his body. Lifting his head up, he could just about see a small tug boat bobbing frantically towards the shore. He squinted towards the boat in a daze. Was it his imagination or was it really careering towards them?

"Are my eyes deceiving me or is that a boat?" Private Jackson asked in awe, voicing Joseph's very thoughts.

"I think it's a rescue." Joseph breathed, not even daring to believe it. With a sudden jolt he noticed about ten other boats trailing behind the first one, the naval officer stood at the front, waving manically at them. About fifty or more men, immediately swarmed towards the boats, tripping over each other in their haste to get free and live. They strode into the water and scrambled onto the boats, whilst the residual men were left to fester in the sea, the sound of popping bullets still ringing clearly in their ears.

"We have to get on that one now!" Wakeham cried, making a move to run out in a blind panic but Joseph seized him by the collar and pulled him back. "What the hell Downton, let me go!"

"No! Listen!" The former pilot hissed, his ear perfectly tuned for this specific sound. Wakeham's eyes melted from fury into confusion and then terror as they heard the sturdy whirr of the Luftwaffe army, scratching through the sky. With great trepidation they glanced up at the sky, their breaths catching in sheer horror at the sight of enemy planes circling the beach overhead.

"Jesus…" Hardy whispered, kissing the cross he wore around his neck. "There must be hundreds of them…"

Hansen stood up, his face etched with pain and sorrow. "Are you satisfied now?" He screamed at the sky.

"Hansen what are you doing?" Carmichael asked in shock, trying to pull the man down, "You're going to get yourself killed!"

"Hansen get down now!" Joseph commanded, bowing swiftly as a shell was dropped near them, showering them with ash and sand.

"You heard the Captain, sit down!" Grimshaw growled, wiping ash sparks out of his eyes.

"Shooting at us isn't enough for you?" Hansen bellowed, "Now you have to set us alight too?" Barely were the words out of his mouth when another shell landed ten inches from where they were, engulfing Hansen in a blaze of flames. The rest of the men scurried away as fast as possible, screaming in horror at the sight before them. Hansen's flaming figure flapped around, shrieking in pain. Joseph and a few others tried to put the flames out with their jackets, edging him towards the sea and pushing him into the water.

But it was too late.

"Captain! Captain, my leg's on fire!" Jackson shrieked, kicking his blazing leg into the water. Harker and Joseph hurriedly splashed water onto his charred leg. Groaning, Jackson allowed Harker to drag him away so he could be tended to. Joseph swallowed his sickening panic. God, they couldn't stay like this or else they'll all be dead by the morning.

Boats streamed towards the beach, salvaging as many men as they could. Joseph knew he had to get his men on a boat but they'd have a job trying to get past the clumps of men who clamoured over each other for a position on the boat. And most of them were injured. He needed to get Grimshaw and Jackson on a boat, fast. Joseph crawled back to his squad, adjusting his helmet with trembling hands.

"Grimshaw, Jackson!" He shouted in a shaking voice, "You must get yourself on a boat, there's no way in hell you can carry on the way you are!"

"He needs patching up first Captain!" Harker responded in desperation while he feverishly bandaged Jackson's burnt leg. "You can't move him."

"All right." Joseph said thinly, trying not to look at the intense pain etched on Jackson's face. "Grimshaw – it's all you."

"What about you Captain?" Grimshaw shot back.

"Don't worry about us, we can always catch another boat!" Joseph said firmly, "But you, you need to get yourself on one, now!"

"No I don't think so!" Grimshaw sat back and crossed his arms with resolution. "I'm not leaving you all here."

"Don't argue with me Lieutenant!" Joseph countered angrily.

Grimshaw just shook his head dismissively, "Look at them, they're pillaging all the boats! You'll be lucky to get yourself on just one!"

For a split second Joseph just stared at his Lieutenant. Then without warning he pulled Grimshaw's arm around his neck and raised him upright, ignoring his friend's indignant protests. He half-dragged, half-carried Lieutenant Grimshaw out to sea, plodding his way to the boat, waist deep in water, trying to ignore the splitting pain of Grimshaw's weight on his back.

"I've got this one, he's injured!" Joseph shouted to the young fisherman who was assisting men aboard. He glanced around the boat with a frown but softened slightly when he saw the look of intense desperation in Joseph's eyes.

"I spose' I could take one more." He sighed, leaning down to lift Grimshaw into the boat. Joseph supported his legs as he was elevated inside.

Grimshaw managed to lean down from the side, giving Joseph a grateful smile and wink. "You didn't have to do this. Thank you Captain."

Joseph turned to the naval captain of the boat. "Get him back safely Captain." The naval captain just smiled and nodded while they saluted each other respectfully. Joseph turned away with a morsel of relief and waded his way back to shore.

* * *

><p><em><strong>May 29th 1940<strong>_

_Matthew stood on the edge of a precipice, staring out onto a beach which was littered with skeletal corpses. Panicking, he tried to scream for Joseph but no sound seemed to emerge from his throat. Suddenly, he saw a dark figure rising from the depths of the violent sea. The figure seemed to float above the bodies, gliding straight towards Matthew who gaped, open mouthed and horrified. It was Joseph, like he had never seen him before. He was dressed in his military uniform, drenched with water, seaweed clinging to him like chains. His blue eyes now turned grey were sunk into the back of his skull, his silvery face and lips caked with salt._

_"Joe!" Matthew managed to choke, "Where are you? Are you all right? Are you hurt?"_

_Joseph glared at him in a look filled with such hatred, Matthew felt himself cringe. "You were supposed look after me!" He hissed. "What kind of a father are you?"_

_"Joe, please," Matthew sputtered, his eyes swelling with tears, "Don't say that! I'm doing everything I can to try and find you -"_

_"You should've tried harder!" Joseph screamed, his eyes turning wide with frenzy. Matthew couldn't speak. This madman wasn't his son. It couldn't be. "But you didn't."_

_Should've. Didn't. All past tense…_

_Joseph slowly started to screw up his face in anger, spitting out six words in a voice smothered with so much pain and hurt, it forced Matthew's heart to compress in despair. "Instead, you just let me drown."_

_"No." Matthew blurted out in a whimper, trying to reach for his son who was still lingering in front of him. "Joe I would never do that, you're my son – I love you!"_

_"Not enough to save me though." Joseph whispered in fury._

_"You're not dead – you're not! I'd know if you were!" Matthew protested, feeling utterly helpless and useless._

_Joseph's salty lips twitched into a smirk. "Now you know." And with those words he started to glide back into the sea, this time for good while Matthew tried to scream and scream and –_

Matthew bolted upright, panting in terror. Beads of sweat trickled down his neck and the side of his head. He wiped some droplets off with the back of his hand and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It had just gone half-three. Noticing that the bed suddenly felt considerably lighter, he turned to Mary's side, only to see that she was in fact, seated by the window. Her feet were tucked up under her legs while her glassy eyes stared out at the inky sky, her nightdress blowing softly in the evening Spring breeze.

"Did you have another nightmare?" She asked in a papery thin voice, her eyes still focused on the sky.

Matthew sighed heavily, closing his eyes in defeat before murmuring, "Yes." He slid out of bed and quietly started to walk towards her, aching to be held in her arms.

Mary reached out her hand for him to grasp – which he did, without hesitation. He flung himself opposite her, pressing her hand to his cheek and then pressing a soft kiss on her wrist. She caressed his cheek and briefly rested her hand on his neck before saying softly, "How did he die this time?"

Matthew's eyes burned with unshed tears, his fingers digging into Mary's skin while he muttered in a watery voice, "He drowned in the sea and I couldn't save him - but he was already dead - it was too late!" The dam behind his eyes broke, allowing all tears to flow freely. He willingly let himself fall into the arms of his wife while he sobbed into her neck. Her hand caressed the back of his head while he poured out all of his heartache and frustration. Finally he pulled away, his eyes red and raw with grief. "God, I can't do it anymore Mary." He sniffed, "I can't just sit back and do nothing while Joseph is stranded out there!"

"And there's nothing anyone can do to ensure he can get home safely?" Mary asked with a morsel of hope laced in her voice.

Matthew desolately shook his head. "They said there's too many soldiers on that beach and they can't guarantee a safe return. Also, because Joe's a part of Operation Dynamo, those bastards keep dancing around the truth anyway. He's my son! I have a right to know what's happening damnit!"

Mary felt her own tears slip down her cheek. The worry and anguish she had been feeling for her eldest son had been gradually consuming her for the past couple of weeks, but after she had found out about Dunkirk – she could feel herself succumbing to the distress but, she knew she was strong enough to fight it off, however hard it was for her to do, she did it. For the sake of Benjamin, she kept it together.

With resolution, she tilted Matthew's distraught face upward. "Listen to me. If I could, I'd go over right now and repeatedly kick that Hitler up his backside if I thought it'd to any good!"

Matthew released a snort of laughter at his wife's sweetened vulgar comment. "Mary."

She smiled in response. "But Joseph and our other children have to be our priority. It's Benji's birthday tomorrow and he doesn't have any inkling about Joe's – situation."

"And I don't want him to know." Matthew added swiftly, "Just let him be a child for as long as he can."

"I want that too." Mary puckered her brow, her fingers intertwining with her husband's. "But I think we should go up to Dover and stay there until Joe returns home to us - safely."

Matthew frowned at her in a daze, saying in shaking voice. "Don't – don't make false suggestions Mary because you -you know I'll actually do it, I'd do anything right now if it meant -!"

"I know darling!" She grabbed his face and kissed him desperately. "But you're right. I can't stay here and do nothing either. We have to go to Dover and find out what's going on. Will you be all right with that?"

Matthew didn't answer her. He didn't need to.

"Shall we – shall we pray?" Mary suggested tentatively, remembering only too well a night similar to this one when she was going out of her mind with worry for the man sitting right opposite her. The man that was now going out of his mind with worry for his son. Their son.

"Yes." Matthew answered in a mere whisper, sounding almost childlike. "Yes, let's pray."

Together they kneeled down beside their bed, hands clasped together under their chin. Mary placed Joe's picture in front of them.

"Dear Lord," She started off in a tense voice, "I don't know if you're listening to us but if you are and if I – we've – ever done anything good…" She shot a small glance at Matthew who had his eyes shut tightly, listening to every word Mary spoke and completely unaware that she had once uttered them about him.

Mary caressed her son's picture, her heart growing heavy. "I beg you to keep him safe."

"Please, please God keep him safe." Matthew uttered in sheer desperation, his face twisted in sheer anxiety but above all else – faith.

* * *

><p><em><strong>May 30th 1940<strong>_

Lifeless bodies bobbed onto the shore. Very carefully, Joseph stumbled around the panic stricken soldiers who were blindly firing at anything they could. Men were grabbing bodies and using them as shields, Joseph wanted to scream at them to treat those bodies with respect but he inadvertently found himself doing the same thing when a hail of bullets came flying his way. Wincing in pain, he wiped away a trail of blood from a cut smeared on his forehead.

"Captain!" Yates gasped thickly as he crawled towards him, his nose smashed and flowing with blood. "What do we do?"

"Where in God's name are the others?" Joseph asked in trepidation, dipping quickly as a shell landed right beside them, showering them with sand.

They coughed and spluttered; sand grains wedged in their throats and lodged in their eyes. Joseph scrambled for his flask, desperate for water. He tipped the liquid back into his mouth, his hand vibrating in shock. He offered it to his comrade.

"I don't know where they are!" Yates choked, accepting the flask with a nod. "We did what you asked, we all spread out so we wouldn't be attacked together!"

"We need to find them and re-group!" Joseph spied a rock further down. "Yates, on my command we have to run to that rock all right?"

"But sir, they're dropping-"

"We have to!" Joseph cried, glancing apologetically at the body which he had used as a shield. It was now peppered with bullet holes. "Just stay close to me. Get down on the ground and use your elbows to propel you forward. All right?"

Yates nodded, his face draining of what little colour he had left. "Yes Captain."

Joseph turned back to watch the carnage with a heavy heart. Men were stumbling around, screaming in pain as their arms or legs were gusted right in front of them. Joseph clapped a hand to his mouth and tried to swallow his disgust. Then he saw him. There by the shore, amongst a pile of bodies, Major Bellamy lying entangled in his own organs.

"Oh - oh my God no, no, no." Joseph breathed. He turned around and heaved spontaneously, shaking in fear and adrenaline. It was wonder he even had anything left, he had been living off grass strands for the past two days.

Yates patted his shoulder in alarm. "You all right Captain?"

Joseph wiped his mouth. "I know where Major Bellamy is," He replied weakly.

"Where?"

"Never mind. He's - he's gone." Joseph ducked as another bullet richoeted off his human shield. "We need to get behind that rock! Now, get down!"

They flung themselves onto the ground and dragged their bodies across the sand to the rock, trying desperately to ignore the stench of blood which penetrated their nostrils. Another shell exploded near them. Joseph kept his head down and just continued to move, focus on the rock, focus on the rock, he thought frantically. He yelped in pain as someone tripped over him, kicking his helmet so it fell into his eyes.

"Oh shit!" Joseph yelled.

"What?" Came Yates's panicked response.

"My helmet - I - I can't see a damned thing!" Joseph hissed. A bullet grazed through his helmet, shattering the tin, just missing his head. His panic accelerated. For seconds, Joseph just lay on his front, trying to grasp the reality of what had just happened. Had he been a few inches higher, that bullet would have caught his head. The mere thought of that sent involuntary shivers down his spine while he used his rower's strength to drag his body behind the rock, Yates following closely behind.

From his position Joseph observed the bloodshed. Bodies and fragments were strewn among the beach, men were writhing in agony, shrieking like animals, their cries drowned out by the heavy fire of guns and bombs being hurled their way. Medics dotted around the wounded, attending those unfortunate men who had their insides ripped open and were screaming for morphine or their mothers.

"What do we do now sir?"

Joseph whipped around in shock at the new, familiar voice. Private Hardy along with a cluster of other soldiers had crowed around them. They were all staring at him for advice and orders. He swallowed.

"Still think we should continue fighting now, eh Captain Downton?" Wakeham asked furiously, leaning on his elbows to glare at Joseph.

"Look, we are not giving up!" Joseph retorted with irritation, still trying to remain low. "The boats will keep on coming and we just need to hold on until they do – can we do that?"

He never received his answer. At that exact moment a large shell dropped on a nearby tugboat, blasting the boat into mere splinters and every man on it, into mere fragments.

The remains of the Second Division stared completely dumbstruck at the charcoal cloud towering above them.

"Good God in Heaven," Yates breathed, his eyes flooding with tears of rage, "They blew up the whole boat, those bastards! They were just fishermen, they weren't even soldiers! They were trying to save us!"

Joseph released an angry breath, "We'll keep fighting for them!"

"What about us though Captain?" Carmichael asked with a guilty look, "When are we going to get off this beach? I'm so hungry, I don't think I can move another muscle and I'm not going to drink that seawater or else I'll definitely die!"

Joseph clasped the young man's shoulder, "Chin up Private Carmichael. We'll get through this. It can't be long now."

Leaving his unit for a brief moment, Joseph tiptoed out to analyse the timing of the boats and if all of them could get on one or split up into groups. He peered over the spine of the rock -

A hand grabbed his boot!

Joseph reacted sharply, aiming his gun at the man who lay groaning and writhing in pain, his insides, torn open and throbbing with blood.

"Jesus!" Joseph dropped to his knees, trying to stop the heavy stem, his hands congealing with scarlet liquid. "It's all right." He murmured, keeping as much pressure as he could on the open wound, "Where's the damn medic!" He glared around the beach, shouting, "Morphine for God's sake, I need morphine over here!"

"Please," The man gasped, "Captain, please just - put me out of my misery. Please."

Joseph shook his head violently, "No, no you can't ask me to do that!"

"Please!" The young private begged, his face contorting in agony, "I don't want to die like this, end my suffering I beg you!"

Joseph didn't know what possessed him to relent. Perhaps it was the sight of this poor man drowning in his own pain, or perhaps it was the deafening sound of gunshots which penetrated his ears. Joseph Crawley stood up, his legs shaking. He fiddled with his gun, aiming it at the man, right at the temple before easing pressure on the trigger and releasing.

It was done.

Joseph released a guilty sob, sinking down into the sand, clutching his gun to his chest. The gun he had just used to take another man's life. He glared up at the sky which was flecked with aircrafts. All he could do was shake his head.

He left the RAF for this?

* * *

><p><em><strong>May 31st 1940<strong>_

Mary twisted her fingers around her necklace in agitation. She couldn't go down to the beach again, she just couldn't.

Having left a sulky Benjamin in the care of Isobel, the rest of the Crawley family had flocked straight to Dover where they were greeted with the most unpleasant sight.

Soldiers were littered along the beach, their faces either white with shock or dripping with blood. Nurses flitted among them, forcing hot drinks down their throats and wrapping blankets over their shoulders. But what really distressed them were the rows and rows of stretchers which were draped over with a black sheet.

Matthew's face grew dark. He turned to his family and addressed his wife and daughters in particular, "You don't have to be here you know? Edward can escort you back to the hotel -"

"No!" Georgina said firmly, "I'm staying here."

The smell of the blood mixed with sweat mingled with the stench of the sea air was forcing Rebecca's stomach to churn. She clapped her hand to her mouth, trying to swallow down.

"You should get back to the hotel." Matthew suggested instantly, taking his daughter gently by the arm but she waved him away.

"No, Papa. I want to stay here. Mama?" Rebecca glanced at her mother who was staring transfixed at the lines of body bags being hauled into trucks.

Mary stiffly shook her head, tears brimming in her dark orbs. "No, I'm sorry, I - I can't stay here." She turned on her heel and promply stormed away.

Now of course she was regretting it. While she remained holed up in the hotel room, drinking endless cups of tea and twidling her thumbs whilst listening irritably to the squaking seagulls, her husband, her son and her daughters, even Rebecca who was feeling sick with the whole ordeal, were all at the beach, waiting or helping out any way they can. Snatching up her handbag, she adjusted her hat and swiftly left the room.

* * *

><p>"We had a Joseph Crawford arrive here on a tugboat yesterday, he wasn't in very good shape so I suggest you check the hospital." The guard said with forced casual countenence, proceeding to turn away from Matthew and Edward.<p>

"No, no, no, not Crawford, Craw-ley!" Matthew pronounced with intense irritation for what seemed like the hundredth time. What was wrong with these people? "Captain Joseph Matthew Craw-ley! Ley! Ley! How many times must I say it?" He brandished Joseph's grainy photograph in the guard's face, "Let's try a different approach. Have you seen him?"

The guard frowned, plucking the picture out of Matthew's tight fist, "With all due respect - my lord, but I thought you said your son's a soldier?"

"He is!" Matthew replied with an impatient sigh.

"Then why is this lad wearing an RAF uniform?" The guard asked in hollow confusion, holding the picture up in front of them.

Edward rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth, "Oh for the love of -!"

"It's - a very long story, but the truth is, he is a soldier now and he is on that beach! Now please would you help me find him!" Every word Matthew fired out was smothered with intense anger.

"Matthew?" Mary's tentative voice drifted out towards him, forcing him to calm down. He turned to see his wife, trudging across the beach to them. She passed Georgina who was handing around cups of tea a group of new arrivals. She glanced up anxiously as her mother passed by.

"What's going on?" Mary asked in a voice of forced calm.

"These people won't tell us if Joseph has arrived safely or not." Edward replied coldly, eyeing the guard with dislike.

"Look, what division did you say your son was in?" The guard asked wearily.

"He's Captain of the Second Infantry Division." Matthew replied without a beat.

"Right well - you see that lot over there..." The guard pointed to a small group of men who were huddled together near a medic's truck marked with an A. "I don't know which one but, uh..." He glanced down at his clipboard, "There was one lad in that group who was in your boy's division, they were brought in a few days ago - a Lieutenant Toby Grimshaw?"

Matthew's heartbeat accelerated at the name Grimshaw. He knew him from Joseph's letters. "That's Joe's Lieutenant!"

Edward just narrowed his eyes, "Days? Days? They were brought in a few days ago? Why are they still here and why weren't any other members of the Second Division on that boat?"

"From what I know, his leg gave way on him and he was shoved on a boat by a member of his unit. We've tried to move them but they're still so weak they won't budge. It's like talking to a wall! They're completely unresponsive and by staying here, they're taking up room!"

"Oh, how inconvenient!" Edward shot back sardonically.

"Look, I'm just trying to do my job and that's all I know so..." The guard shrugged and proceeded to back away.

"Well thank you for all your help!" Mary snapped. She turned to Matthew, "We need to talk to that Grimshaw boy, now!"

Mary lurched forward but Matthew grabbed her arm and held her back, "Mary, you don't want to startle him. He's had a terrible shock and he might not want to talk."

"But if he knows about Joe Papa!" Edward protested on his mother's behalf, "Then we can all be spared this waiting!"

Matthew chewed on his lip, relenting. He nodded. They stiffly crossed the beach to the medic's truck. Edward's throat grew tight while he watched experienced doctors and nurses attend to the most gruesome of wounds. Would he have to tend to injuiries like that while he was away? To their surprise they found Rebecca was there, ladling soup into bowls and handing them to the starving men. She gave her family a thin smile when they arrived.

"Lieutenant Grimshaw?" Matthew called out nervously, "Lieutenant Toby Grimshaw?"

A young man leaning against the spine of the truck suddenly snapped his head up at Matthew's voice. He gazed at him in a daze. "Yes?"

Matthew swallowed, carefully picking his way through the wounded men to get to Grimshaw. Rebecca curiously passed Grimshaw a bowl of soup which he accepted with immense grattiude. "Thank you nurse!"

Rebecca's eyes widened, "Oh, no I'm not a-"

"Do you know Captain Crawley?" Edward interrupted, very straightforward, no treading around the subject.

Grimshaw's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why do you want to know?"

"Edward," Matthew chided gently, "Let me ask the questions." He turned to Grimshaw, "He's our son."

Grimshaw's eyes brightened, "Oh, well of course I know Captain Crawley! He's the reason I'm here now. You have one brave son if I may say so my lord."

Mary's eyes brimmed with tears at those words, "Why? What happened?" She asked in a mere whisper.

Grimshaw tilted some soup down his throat, his hands were shaking so much, it dribbled down his chin. He looked away in embarrassment. "Damn it!" He cursed.

"Here let me help..." Rebecca quickly dabbed at his chin with a cloth. "There." Mary's heart was ignited with a newfound warmth at the sight of her little girl acting professional and responsible.

Grimshaw turned back to Mary with haunted eyes, "My legs gave way. We'd been walking so much and we daren't stop for rest. Once we arrived at the beach, we knew were cornered and were just waiting for a miracle I suppose. We were all tired, hungry and very thirsty. When the boats started to come for us, I insisted that I stay behind and remain with my men but Captain Crawley wasn't having any of it. He picked me up, slung me over his back and carried me out into the sea and onto a boat where I was brought back here safely. And for that I owe him my life."

Matthew's lips quivered. His own memories of once carrying a wounded soldier over his back still haunted him, especially now. But to hear his own son had done something similar? He sucked in a sharp breath, his emotions threatening to overcome him.

But before he had a chance to say anything, he was interrupted by the sound of the unhelpful guard racing towards them. "You there!" He bellowed hurriedly, "You said you were looking for your son in the second division right?"

"Yes!" Matthew and Mary replied in unison.

The guard gestured towards a boat that had just pulled up to dock. "All the boys in that are second division!"

Matthew slipped on the sand dunes in his haste to get to that boat. Men were limping out of it, their faces twisted in pain and exhaution, many of them actually collapsed from lack of nutrition and water. From what they could see, a great number of soldiers were nursing stray bullet wounds which had caught them in their shoulders, arms, legs or other obscure body parts. Mary did a quick scan of the boat.

No sign of her son.

With her stomach plummetting in fear, she hurried towards the nearest, uninjuired solider off the boat, grabbing him by the arms in desperation. Her fingers brushed his armband. He was a medic. "Do you know Joseph? Captain Crawley?"

Private Harker's eyes widened in horror, expanding as the rest of the Crawley's clustered around him. "You're Captain Crawley's family?" He choked.

"Yes." Matthew answered in a hoarse voice, hating the look in this young medic's eyes. "Please, can you tell us where he is."

Private Harker shook his head in utter sorrow, his lips struggling to form proper words. Mary's hands tightened around his arms, her face sharpening in panic. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this but - Captain Crawley was shot trying to get on our boat. We think he might be dead."

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	28. A Father's Instinct

**Author's Note:**Hey guys! Thanks all sooo much for the reviews and of course the patience! This chapter took forever to write but I'm sure I've finally got it sorted. It time jumps from one hour to the next but it's all on the same day - if that makes sense.

This chapter is part 2 of our Dunkirk story and will come to a close next chapter but at the end of this chapter there's an introduction to the future and - a face from the past! So read this one and plz tell me what u think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 28 - A Father's Instinct<strong>

_**May 31**__**st**__** 1940**_

_**3:01pm**_

Joseph felt someone slapping the side of his face, waking him up almost instantly. He shook his head in a daze, feeling dizzy with dehydration. "What the…?"

"Captain, there's a boat!" Carmichael cried in a voice littered with excitement. "It's coming for us!"

Joseph scrambled to his feet, aware of the sound of aircrafts ripping the sky. Ducking as low as they could, they inched towards the lip of the shore, waves just about touching their toes.

"Are we going to stand here all day?" Wakeham growled with impatience, "Because this is an invitation for suicide!"

"How are we going to make it to a boat in one piece?" Harker asked, supporting a semi-conscious Jackson upright. "I mean – just look"

Joseph looked. He didn't need to but just for the sake of motivation, he looked.

Bodies tumbled out of the boats and into the sea like rag dolls. Joseph clutched his gun, terrified. If they didn't get on a damn boat soon, they would be next! He glanced at the water where the bullets bounced off, spraying them with white foam. Immediately he was struck with an idea.

Joseph turned around and yelled to his squad, "Right men, we have to use the water as barrier! Jump in and swim underwater to the boat!"

"What about Jackson sir?" Hardy asked, grabbing his arm before he fell over, "He can't swim, not with his mangled leg."

"I'll do it." Jackson moaned, "Let's just go! Please!"

Joseph signalled to the naval officer on the fisherman's ship about eight metres away. Then he turned back and hollered to his men as quickly as he could.

"All right when I signal three, we jump and cover! Then swim to that boat there - keep your head down at all times, do NOT let them hit you!" It was so much easier said than done and Joseph hated himself for saying it to them but it had to be said in order to stimulate them, let them know that they were being rescued from the depths of perdition and they shouldn't give up. Oh of course it was so easy to jump into a bullet and end it there and then, Joseph had thought about it countless of times. But they weren't going to die on a beach. Not now, not ever.

"One,"

Joseph squatted on the cusp of the shore, ice white foam licking his boots.

"Two,"

He took a deep breath.

"THREE!"

They dashed into sea, scuttling like frantic insects among the strenuous tide. Joseph plunged head first into the deep icy water, narrowly missing a bullet which pierced the water in a stream of bubbles.

The heavy kit bag attached to his back was dragging him down which proved to be a blessing as he could see the small eruptions just above his head. Men were struggling to swim as they too were being dragged down by excess weight as well as battling the fierce tide. Joseph tried to help them, pulling them along while he paddled himself further towards the boat. As they struggled to maintain themselves among the folds of water, the bullets finally found them, slinging into the chests or catching their legs. Joseph braced himself in terror, watching the crimson clouds erupt from his friends chests, arms, legs, spreading through the water. There was nothing he could do except get them to a boat. One by one he hoisted them all up, himself at the bottom, the naval officer and fishermen at the top. Groaning and gasping in agony, they all tumbled in, panting on the deck, out of relief, pain or just sheer exasperation.

Finally it was Joseph's turn. Lifting his hand up for assistance he elevated himself onto the rim of the boat, weighed down by his drenched uniform. One leg was over, the other one about to follow –

BANG!

Joseph screamed in pain, releasing the rim of the boat only to be caught and hauled back by the nearest fishermen before he toppled back in. He slammed onto the deck, teeth clenched in pain, clutching his left shoulder which felt warm and sticky. His uninjured men flocked around him, Harker ordering everyone to move back and give him room. Trembling, Joseph allowed Harker to gently draw his hand away. He stared in shock at the scarlet fluid soaking his hand.

"A bullet must've lodged into your shoulder Captain!" Harker murmured, gingerly inspecting the damage.

"Marvellous." Joseph choked in sarcasm, trying to sit up. He stared up at the faces of the three fishermen who were arguing in heated whispers. "Why aren't we moving?" Joseph asked them sharply.

One of the fishermen jumped in alarm. "Oh – well, we can't move. There are too many of you on board."

There was an immediate hush.

"Look lads, I really hate to do this - but," The second fishermen grabbed one of the uninjured men and flung him overboard into the sea.

Everyone released angry cries of protestation. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Joseph bellowed through gritted teeth, pain shooting up the left side of his arm now. "He's not some toy, he's a human bei -"

Without listening to a word the young Captain was saying, all three fishermen started hurling other men back into the sea, ignoring their screams and pleas for mercy.

"Stop! Stop! I said stop!" Joseph ordered, standing up with great difficulty. Fisherman number two who went by the name of Phil, was holding a terrified Carmichael over the rim of the boat. At Joseph's command he froze and turned towards Joseph. "How many people are you throwing off?"

"At least seven sir." Number one who went by the name of Steve, said in a small voice.

Number two shook Carmichael, "This one here makes seven." He grunted. "We'll come back for them."

"Will you? Will you really?" Joseph spat, stumbling towards the edge of the boat where he could see the redundant soldiers trying to splash back to shore or clamber onto another boat. He closed his eyes briefly, knowing he wasn't trying to be a hero. He genuinely had to do this. "Let him go, I'll take his place."

"No Captain!" Carmichael wailed. "You're injured, you can't- "

Joseph just held his right hand up to silence him, "I'm not arguing with you Private Carmichael. I'm staying." He turned towards the rest of his squad. "I'm staying here."

"Captain Crawley, I'm sorry but I can't let you do that!" The young naval captain interjected quickly. "I'm under strict orders to bring you all back safely. Now I've got you, I can't let you go. I promise you, we will come back for them."

"Oh, enough of this!" Phil tossed Carmichael overboard.

"No!" Joseph whimpered, watching one of his best men, tumble, screaming and crying into the sea. The boat swiftly started to sail back towards England, dragging them away from the hell and carnage of Dunkirk beach. Joseph slumped back, the warm blood seeping through his jacket, his head was growing light with the heavy loss of blood. He could feel his eyes growing heavy, the sharp pain ebbing from his body as he began to shiver.

"Captain? Captain?" Harker's face swam before him, his voice ringing unevenly in his ears. "I'm going to… bandage your wound…stop the blood…until we can….morphine? Captain?"

Joseph released a tired groan, his head lolling to the side while the faint sound of guns and shells grew muffled. "Water." He croaked.

He didn't know who it was that cradled his head and pressed the cold tin rim to his lips, tipping the water gently down his parched throat. "Thank you." He murmured while they set his lethargic head onto a pillow of folded jackets. All Joseph could do now was gaze pitifully up at the sky. It was so…blue. His lips twitched into a smile as the drowsiness began to wash over him. The beautiful architecture of Downton Abbey spun into his mind, the steeples piercing the crystal blue sky, birds twittering around the turrets. It really was a stunning home. And he had been born to run it and now he could die dreaming about it. His home.

* * *

><p><em><strong>4:12pm<strong>_

Silence. It was all Mary could hear. Lips were moving, gestures were waving but she tuned it all out. The panic, fear and horror had finally engulfed her and she could do nothing except slip into a state of shock. She vaguely felt Rebecca and Georgina's hands pulling her away so she could perch on a smooth piece of rock but she didn't hear them talk to her. She didn't hear a thing.

"Mama wait here with Georgie, I'm going to get you some tea all right?" Rebecca said with worry. When her mother still didn't respond she just patted her arm in reassurance and scurried away to the food truck.

Matthew on the other hand was the complete opposite to his wife. Despite his chalk coloured face and the terror which threatened to break him, he just couldn't ignore the instinct nestled in the forefront of his mind which screamed at him to listen. Lies, lies, it's all lies!

"What do you mean you _think_ he might be dead?" Edward spat, glaring at Harker in disbelief and not daring to let his fear pierce through his stoic countenance. "Either he's dead or he isn't!"

Harker shuffled awkwardly, throwing the occasional glance at the other soldiers who were loitering nearby, obviously earwigging every word. Matthew narrowed his eyes, was that guilt? Shame he saw glistening in the young men's eyes?

Edward folded his arms and nodded at the red-cross band bound around Harker's arm. "You're a medic." Harker nodded dolefully. "So how bad do you think his wound is?"

"It's really hard to say sir." Harker mumbled to his feet.

"Try." Edward ordered in a harsh tone and for once Matthew didn't chide him or reprimand him for raising his voice or being rude. For once, Matthew actually felt like doing much worse than raising his voice at a soldier.

Before Harker could form an answer, one soldier, a cocky and arrogant look in his demeanour which told Matthew that he knew a lot more than he let on, quickly sauntered towards them and removed his cap, almost out of sympathy. He placed a firm, almost dominating hand on Harker's shoulder, saying with forced warmth that sounded more like a command than a suggestion, "Why don't you go and see how Private Jackson is doing? I'm sure he needs your help. I'll fill this lot in."

Matthew raised his brow. This lot? Lot?

Harker just nodded in relief, scooting away as quickly as possible and out of sight. Edward watched him run away with a dark look clouding his eyes. "One moment Papa," He chased after Harker.

Wakeham turned back to Joseph's father. "Hello Lord Grantham," He greeted in a sombre voice which sent a tremulous chill through Matthew's neck. "I'm Private Wakeham, I worked in Captain Crawley's unit."

"I just want to know what happened to him." Matthew said in a shaking yet terse voice. "There's something that doesn't seem right about any of this. I don't understand why you didn't just pull him in after he got shot and slipped off the boat."

"There wasn't enough time I'm afraid." Wakeham said with false sympathy embedded into his tone, "Everything happened so fast – well, let's just say that your son died a true hero. You should be very proud of him."

Matthew's head snapped up, anger pulsating through his veins. This man was talking as if Joseph was already dead when he might in fact not be! "My son might still be out there." Matthew replied coldly, noticing Wakeham flinch. "And if he is, I think we'd wait here until he catches another boat back."

Wakeham struggled to regain control of his even breathing. "Well, Lord Grantham, I can't really say what happened after Joseph fell into the water. He was shot right through the shoulder so…" Wakeham fiddled with his cap, "Anyway I should go but – if you have any questions."

"Oh don't worry. I'll know where to find you." Matthew said in a calm yet threatening voice. Wakeham's cheek twitched in fear. He couldn't get away fast enough.

"Papa?" Rebecca sidled up to her father, touching his arm tentatively. Matthew released a low breath of exhaustion before pulling his daughter close. "Do you think Joe's really dead?" She asked, her voice quivering with fear.

"No I don't." Matthew answered with such affirmation, he surprised not only his daughter but himself.

Rebecca's brown eyes widened in abject hope. "You don't?"

"I don't." Matthew repeated in a whisper, glaring at the soldiers from Joseph's unit who were all shooting shameful looks in their direction whilst muttering heatedly amongst themselves. Matthew turned towards his daughter, "Trust me darling. A father just knows these things."

* * *

><p><em><strong>3:40pm<strong>_

"Is he breathing?" The naval captain Fuller asked, peering at Joseph's motionless face.

Harker lent his ear to Joseph's lips. He couldn't hear anything. Panicked, he pressed his fingers to his neck but drew back instantly. Very slowly he turned to face the others and shook his head, his face etched in sorrow and defeat while he muttered the two most dreaded words, "He's gone."

There was a collective sigh of disappointment and despair from the rest of Joseph's unit. They all removed their hats slowly in respect for their fallen Captain.

Private Hardy rested his palm on Joseph's pale cheek and gasped. "He's as cold as ice."

"Right." Phil swallowed in anxiety at what he was about to do. "Look, I know I'm a bastard to say this but- we need to toss his body overboard."

Everyone gaped at him in disgust.

"It's –it's just that," He continued hastily, "He's an extra load of weight and he's holding us back. Without him, we'll make it to English soil much sooner."

"We're not getting rid of his body." Jackson hissed through gritted teeth. "Get rid of me if you want, but leave him alone!"

"Is that an offer?" Phil growled.

"Stop it!" Wakeham interrupted with irritation. He turned to his friend with a guilty look. "Look, I think he's right, maybe we should get rid of the weight."

"Don't talk about Captain Crawley like he's nothing!" Private Hardy snapped, "We're taking him home to his family."

"I liked Captain Downton!" Wakeham countered, "He was a good soldier and he led us well. But he's gone now. And our families are waiting for us to arrive safely. That's a guarantee if we get rid of this one."

No one said anything.

"So what do we tell his parents? His family?" Hardy asked, his tone dripping with contempt, "When they ask what we did with his body?"

"We don't have to tell them that he actually got on the boat," Wakeham said very quickly, glancing at Joseph's lifeless body. "We could just say he was shot trying to get on it and – and we don't know if he's alive or dead."

"You really are a despicable prick Wakeham!" Jackson hissed.

"We need to get rid of the weight!" Wakeham yelled back, then turning to address the boat. "Anyone here object?"

Phil didn't wait for anyone to object, he didn't listen to their protests and he ignored the futile threats as he carefully picked up Joseph Crawley and slowly dropped him into the vehement water.

Perhaps it was the careless handling. Or perhaps it was being hurled into the chilled water which jolted him out of his state of unconsciousness. Either way, it proved that Joseph Crawley wasn't dead but had merely fainted due to the loss of blood. He scrambled upright against the vicious tides, his head dipping in and out of the water while it lapped into his ears and seeped through his lips. He watched in utter horror as the boat that was supposed to be taking him back home, sailed away without him.

He was stranded in the English Channel with no means and no hope of ever getting back. Joseph swallowed in fear. Oh God, what now?

* * *

><p><em><strong>9:00pm<strong>_

It was late when Matthew returned back to the hotel. Georgina had taken Mary back and decided to wait with her until her father returned. He unlocked the room door and stepped in, nodding at his daughter who smiled thinly and scuttled towards him, casting a worried glance over her shoulder at her mother who stood idly by the window.

"How is she?" Matthew asked his daughter in a low voice, his eyes on his wife's back.

Georgina heaved a despondent sigh. "She's still not saying anything Papa. And she's refusing to eat or drink anything. I had to force her to take a few bites of a sandwich and drink a few sips of soup and tea but the truth is, I think she's accepted that J-" Her eyes promptly filled with tears and she crumbled into her father's waiting arms.

"Shh," Matthew soothed, patting her back, his heart breaking at the sound of his brave and headstrong daughter sobbing. "It's all right darling, it's all right. We mustn't give up hope yet."

Mary made a small scoffing noise from her position at the window, the first recollection she'd made in hours. Georgina and Matthew looked up in alarm.

"Darling can you leave us for a moment?" Matthew asked his daughter softly, "I'd like some time with your mother."

Georgina dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief and tucked it back into her sleeve. "Of course Papa. I'll go down to the beach and fetch Rebecca." She gave him a watery smile and kissed his cheek. She then advanced cautiously towards her catatonic mother who still stood like a statue by the window. "I'll see you later Mama?" She pressed a loving kiss to her mother's cheek. Mary's eyes closed briefly at the feel of her darling daughter's lips on her cheek but if anything it only just reminded her that she had lost a child and the walls refused to come down.

So without any reaction from her mother, Georgina sadly proceeded to leave. Overcome with compassion for her, her father grabbed her hand as she passed him. She stopped, turning towards him with a small frown creased between her brow. He lightly tapped her chin. "Chin up Lady Georgie." He whispered with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Georgina tilted her head to the side, looking the spit of her mother, so much so, Matthew's heart soared. She released an exasperated laugh and squeezed his hand response before swiftly departing the room and shutting the door firmly behind her.

Now it was just the two of them.

Matthew stood with his hands in his pockets staring at his wife who still refused to acknowledge him. He waited for what seemed like hours when it could have only been minutes before he made the first move. He cleared his throat loudly. Her head inclined towards him in response but that was all he was going to get. So he tiptoed towards his wife who continued to stare blankly out of the window overlooking the vast sea, watching the boats careening towards the shore, but Mary had given up hope of Joseph emerging off any of them. It was as if he were already dead in her mind.

"Mary I need you to listen to me very closely." Matthew whispered into her ear, full of urgency. "Something fishy is going on with Joseph's division. They're all acting strange, really strange, especially whenever I mention Joseph."

Mary closed her eyes in controlled patience and for the first time in hours, she finally spoke, her voice dry and lifeless. "Of course they're acting strange Matthew. This is a war is it not? Joseph is – was their Captain."

Matthew shook his head edgily, "I don't think he is dead Mary. I think they must've done something to him, rebelled, objected, went against his orders, I don't know. But there's something they're not telling us. I just know it!"

Mary flashed her eyes towards him, full of hurt and anger, "Maybe you're just being in denial! Or confused even! You want them to be the enemy when the real enemy is -"

"Mary listen to me, I know my instincts!" Matthew interrupted with desperation, seizing both her hands in his. "Especially when it comes to my children. And I know you do too! But this shock or grief or whatever it is that's clouding those instincts – I need you to fight it! Then we can find out what really happened to Joe. Together."

"What do you think could have happened to him after he fell off that boat?" Mary asked furiously.

"Maybe he's been captured or -"

"Don't make me feel any better!" Mary snapped, roughly pushing past him so she didn't have to be near him.

Matthew straightened up, glowering at her in disbelief, "Why can't you just trust me?"

"Why is it so important to you that I do?" She shot back.

His eyes glazed over, wounded and when he spoke his voice was laced with hurt. "Because I'm your husband that's why."

Mary just shrugged in response. "Yes you are. But everything changed the moment our eldest child die -"

The door burst open. Rebecca stumbled into the room breathless and flushed with eagerness. "Papa! Mama! Edward says you have to come down to the beach now!" Rebecca stated, looking from one parent to another in exhilaration. "It's about Joseph."

* * *

><p><em><strong>7:30pm<strong>_

Voices. Panicked, frantic voices. It was all Joseph heard while he felt himself being hauled upwards and laid to rest upon a hard floor. As he came round from consciousness, he heard the voices growing clearer, they sounded thick and foreign. Oh God, Nazis! Had he been captured? He listened harder, his stomach churning in dread. No, they weren't German thank God, they sounded vaguely like they could be Polish. He felt someone tightening a piece of cloth around his shoulder, blocking the steady flow of blood while they muttered in… French? How many foreigners were there?

"Is he alive?" That was an Englishman's voice. Who was he?

"I think he must be." A familiar voice answered in relief, a voice whom Joseph recognized with a pleasant jolt, was Carmichael's. So they were safe. Where were they? Joseph released a small groan and stirred.

"I think 'ee is comeeing around!" The Frenchman said quickly. "Allo? 'Allo Monsieur? Capteen…?"

"Uh, Crawley." Carmichael added.

The Frenchman slapped Joseph's face, "Can you 'ear us? Can you 'ear us Capteen Crawleey?

Yes I can hear you, Joseph thought in irritation as very slowly he blinked himself awake, staring blearily at the cluster of faces which stared down at him in expectation. Joseph managed to force a question from his dry lips. "Where the hell am I?"

The naval officer who was cradling Joseph's head laughed, "It's all right Captain. We're all safe. We're on a boat going back to England."

"Who are you?" Joseph asked wearily, pushing himself so he was upright.

"I'm Charlie Bryant. Well, Officer Bryant but you can just call me Charlie." He said with a warm smile and shaking Joseph's limp hand.

"I'm Joseph Crawley. Or Captain Crawley." Joseph murmured, "But you can call me whatever you want. I'm done with this anyway." He gazed at Carmichael, "I'm glad you managed to get on a boat."

"I'm lucky this rowing boat came for me actually." Carmichael said with intense gratitude. "Otherwise God knows what would have happened."

"A rowing boat?" Joseph repeated in disbelief, "I'm on a rowing boat?"

"Yes sir." A kind elderly looking man said as he proceeded to row them back, "It was just going to be the six of us but we saw you floating along in the water by yourself and thought you might be dead. But this one here," He nodded at Carmichael, "Recognized who you were and insisted we bring you back, dead or alive. And it was a good job we did too!"

Joseph stretched his lips into a tired smile, "Thank you Carmichael."

"So what happened?" Charlie asked in curiosity, "Why were you stranded in the middle of the Channel?"

"Those bastards didn't throw you off too did they?" Carmichael asked in horror.

"Looks like they did." Joseph replied bitterly. "Though why they waited until after we'd started moving is beyond me."

"Maybe they thought you were dead." Charlie said quietly, "We all thought you were."

"I'm a fighter." Joseph croaked, "Just like my parents… Oh God my parents!" He almost bolted upright in the realisation. "I completely forgot, damn it! They'll be expecting me to come back on the fisherman's boat that has most of my unit on board! When they see I don't get off -"

"Relax." A Polish solider with surprisingly good English, gently forced him back down. "You need rest. That wound looks bad. My name is - is Poitri Narwisko but you call me Peter yes?"

"Pleased to meet you."

"And this is my friend Andrzej Kowalski but his English name is how you say? Andrew?"

"Andrew yes."

"Yes. We take care of you."

"Thank you." Joseph said with a smile.

"We'll be home soon Captain Crawley." Charlie reassured with a nod while their boat bobbed on, "You just hold on."

"If I fall asleep you won't think I'm dead and toss me overboard will you?" Joseph asked cautiously.

Charlie chuckled, "No such luck. You're stuck with us I'm afraid."

Something glistening on the chest of the Polish soldiers caught his eye. He lifted his head up in awe, noticing that Peter and Andrew weren't soldiers but were in fact, pilots. Joseph pointed to the wings on their chest, "You - you're pilots? Airmen?"

One of the men nodded enthusiasically, "Yes. Yes we were in the Polish Air Force. Then Hitler took our country and we are left to come to France. But then..."

"Hitler took that over too." Joseph finished with an understanding nod. "I was actually in the RAF myself - uh - our Air Force. I'm a pilot too."

Peter's eyes lit up, "You a pilot also?"

"Well I was."

Both men started chattering to each other excitedly. Andrew nudged Peter, indicating he ask Joseph a question while Joseph watched with amused eyes.

"Andrew wants to ask if it is safe to fly in England?" Peter asked sheepishly.

"Oh - you mean if you can join the RAF? The English Air Force?" Joseph asked with emphasis, speaking mainly to Andrew. He nodded dilligently. Joseph's head was spinning with confusion. "We'll see. I might be able to get you considered."

"Maybe you should come back." Peter suggested.

Joseph cleared his throat, "I should let you know firstly that I'm not very popular over there at the moment. I left without really giving it much thought."

"But they can always let you back in surely." Charlie asked with a frown.

Joseph chortled darkly, "I can't really see them opening their arms in welcome if I'm honest. Plus, if my arm is gone... I can't even use cutlery let alone fly a plane!"

"Still this war is getting brutal by the second." Carmichael said in a hollow voice, "Maybe you should wait until your arms heals up and then go back. I think they can swallow their pride if it means gaining a good pilot."

Joseph scoffed, "How do you know if I was good or not?"

But it wasn't Carmichael who answered, it was Andrew who stated something in Polish which Peter translated, "You are a good pilot. We see the determination in your eyes."

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	29. Healing

**Author's Note:**I'm sooo sorry for the delay but everything's just been so hectic lately! Anyway, I'm counting down the days for S3 but I'm not going to alter the story in any way after S3 airs. So it's going to be entirely AU with S1+2 spoilers.

This chapter deals with the family getting Joseph back and I know a lot of people complained about Mary/Matthew's strained relationship? Well they finally have a long awaited heart to heart!

So read it and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 29 – Healing<strong>

Wakeham released a grunt as his body was flung against the medic truck. Edward sauntered towards him, his eyes glittering dangerously.

"One more time." He purred, "What happened after you - hurled – my brother overboard?"

"I told you," Wakeham answered impatiently, "We didn't see what happened, we just took off and left!"

Edward nodded slowly, his face twisting in sheer disgust, "So I heard."

"Eddie!"

The young Crawley turned to see his father heading the rest of his family, jogging down the beach towards him.

"Eddie," Matthew panted, approaching them. He threw a suspicious glance at Wakeham before turning his eyes on his son, "Rebecca said you have some news about Joe."

Wakeham tried to make a swift dash for it, but Edward, anticipating his move, casually grabbed him by the collar and forced him back. "I asked you a question?" He growled.

"Edward!" Mary chided in alarm, "What in heaven's name are you doing -?"

"Answer me!" Edward shouted, his face twisting in panic. If there was a chance, just a small, morsel of a chance that Joseph was alive and on his way back to them, then they needed to know and they needed to know now.

"Edward, Ed - Edward let the boy go," Matthew ordered, trying to tug his son's grip off Wakeham who used the quick release to scramble away from Edward.

"No – Papa get off me!" Edward tried to squirm out of his father's strong grasp, "He's hiding somethi –you can run but you can't hide forever!" He yelled after Wakeham's disappearing frame.

"Now Edward just calm down, calm down, calm down." Matthew breathed into his son's ear, holding him in a tight embrace. "Just calm yourself down."

Edward took a few deep breaths, allowing the fresh sea air to calm his nerves and anxiety. He roughly shrugged himself out of his father's hold and smoothed out his shirt. He jabbed his thumb towards Wakeham's direction and glared at his father, "Why did you make me do that? He's hiding something about Joe! They all are!"

"I know that." Matthew replied in a voice which he hoped sounded reassuring. He threw a quick glance at his wife who was clutching on tight to Rebecca's hand. She was just staring at him like she was seeing him for the first time; her eyes completely devoid of any expression and it pained him to see her like that. Matthew turned back to his son. "But we have no proof. Until Joseph returns to us, safely, and can testify to mutiny then it's all just theory."

Edward heaved an angry sigh. The cold Spring night wrapped around them like a thick blanket of ignorance. The only light was that of the trucks, the torches and the intermittent light from a welcoming boat. "So what are we supposed to do now?" He asked, his voice heavy with lack of sleep and worry.

"Now, we wait." Matthew responded with the same dulcet tone, "It's the only thing we can do."

Edward didn't reply. Instead he just scowled and flung himself on the sand, resting his back against the medic truck and wrapping his jacket tighter around him for warmth, his face a picture of wrath. Matthew turned to Rebecca and gently caressed her cheek, "Darling can you please find Georgina and go back to the hotel to get some decent sleep. I'm not asking!" He added sternly as she opened her mouth to protest. She wilted in defeat and nodded, shuffling away to find her sister.

"What shall I do?" Mary asked her husband, her free hands now grasping the lapels on his jacket.

Matthew held on tight to her hands, glad to have some kind of physical contact with her, even if it be for only a second. "You're going to wait with me until Joseph comes back."

"If he comes back!" Edward interjected loudly from his position on the ground.

"Edward!" Matthew scolded, watching Mary's eyes widen.

"We don't know what they did to him – or – or how bad his shot wound was! I'm only being practical!" He retorted.

"Eddie please!" Matthew begged, "For once, please just keep this," He tapped his lips, "Shut! For your mother's sake as well as your own."

Edward watched his father usher his mother away. "Nice one Ed." He muttered to himself, wondering why he always manages to get himself into these difficulties, always displeasing his father, always letting his anger and temper get the better of him. Why couldn't he ever learn to just keep his mouth shut?

Matthew guided Mary down a small slope where he led her to a smooth rock overlooking the sea. They both perched on it, leaning on each other for support – just like they had done for the past twenty-eight years.

"I'm sorry I said those things to you." Mary said suddenly, after a few minutes of just staring into the sea. "It was cruel of me Matthew. I should've trusted you."

"Don't apologise to me." Matthew said hoarsely, trying to put all the love he could into his voice. "You were in shock and there was I, going on about – conspiracy…I'm the one that's sorry."

Mary pressed a grateful kiss on his cheek in response. She was truly thankful that this time, she had Matthew by her side. She wouldn't have known how to cope otherwise. During the last war, when he was off fighting, she never had the chance to hold him or kiss him, or tell him that she loved him and he must return home to her safely because he was betrothed to someone else – and so was she. That had only amplified her suffering even more. The fact that she could never actually touch him, when he was so close yet so far. So she just had to show him her feelings through the form of an old and treasured toy. A toy that to this day - Matthew still keeps in his pocket, while he waits to hear news of their son.

"What do you think the chances are? That he's alive?" Mary asked him, a shred of hope creeping into her voice.

Matthew hesitated before giving his answer. What was he supposed to say to that? "I think – with Joseph there's always a chance." It was all he could say.

"I just want them to bring his body back home." Mary whimpered, feeling her anguish compress upon her heart. "Why can't they just – bring him home so we can bury him properly?" She couldn't hold the tears in any longer, her whole body shook with the weight of grief and loss she was harbouring within her. She pressed her hand to her mouth to stop herself from screaming in despair. Because she wanted to. Oh God, how she wanted to. It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair at all! What had they done to deserve this? She dug her fingernails into her cheeks, wanting to tear at the skin until it bled, to find a way to release this excruciating pain she was concealing.

"Mary stop that, you'll hurt yourself." Matthew placed his hands over hers and brought them away from her cheeks, resting them on his lap. He stroked the back of her cool hand with his thumb. "We have to stop talking like Joseph is dead. Because he might not be."

Mary released a bitter chuckle. "Joseph was never our son was he? Not completely."

Matthew frowned, "I can't understand what you mean."

"He was Downton's but never ours. He belonged to Downton but never to us." Mary said with a tone of finality to her voice.

"Of course he belonged to us." Matthew countered in a hush laced with incredulity, "He's a part of you and he's a part of me. They all are. Joseph – belongs – to us first and foremost. Understand?"

Mary closed her eyes, saying in a dejected voice, "Oh Matthew. All my life I've practiced keeping my emotions in check because it's what's expected of a future Countess. But the thought of Joseph lying in the middle of the ocean, dead and alone – I thought that I had suffered all that – that fear and anxiety when you were gone. I didn't think there was enough left to be wrung out of me." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, keen to give her fingers something to do.

"I'm so sorry Mary." Matthew breathed, finally allowing his head to drop onto her shoulder in shame, "I didn't know I put you through so much sorrow. But then I didn't know you were still in – well I just didn't know. I wish I did, I wished I could've been more honest with myself and with you, to open my eyes and see that it was you I really loved, whenever your face came into my mind during the most darkest moments. And I didn't even try and deny it then."

"Matthew -"

"It was only when I tried to establish some normality outside that awful time, I grew ignorant of my feelings again! And I still didn't dare to hope that you could've ever felt the same as me, that you could see me for what I really was. Not as the lovesick boy you might remember but as the genuine man who had loved you with every ounce and fibre of my soul from the very first moment you walked into my house and into my life right to the very first moment I walked away from yours."

"Oh, Matthew that was a long, long time -"

"Time ago yes," Matthew interrupted with impatience, "But I think it's important for you to know that I felt like an idiot for letting go of the best entity in my life. After I thought you didn't love me, I was so hurt yet consumed with love for you; I didn't know what to do with it! There I was, a mere pining boy who couldn't eat, who couldn't sleep, who couldn't see anyway forward to channel all that love– except go to war. That's why when Joseph let Amelia go and when Edward shunned Clarissa; I wanted to shake some sense into them! To scream at them to treat what they had with respect and not take advantage of having someone by their side."

Mary felt her stomach plummet with guilt, "I would've been by your side." She said in a passionate whisper. She cast an awkward glance around. They were sat on a rock on a beach while casualties tended to the wounded and dying and they were here having this conversation. It struck a thought within her. How many of these men had girls back home who didn't know whether they were alive or dead?

She turned back to him, her eyes glaring with passion. "I would've been by your side in an instant if you'd just come back and let me! But even after that awful party I came by your house and your mother said you had gone. You had gone and there was no way for me to get in touch with you. Yet still I waited in vain for a letter, a telegram, a word – anything! Anything to show me that I could pray or worry for you. But two years had passed and I had to hear it from the Baker's that you came back to Downton! But you never came back to us. So it was then that I accepted it was over."

Matthew closed his eyes at the sheer force behind her words. "I know. And even after all that I put you through, when I didn't expect you to be, you were still there, by my side and you didn't even need to be." He pounded his thigh with his fist at each point. "And I – I was such a fool for not seeing it. Not even on the night of that damned concert, your face, it said it all but I was too scared to hope, I didn't want to!"

"Look, please let's not talk about all this again Matthew. That's in the past now so let's just leave it there where it belongs. We're here now and we're together so we need not mention all that." Mary said in a kind yet firm voice, very much regretting her succumbs to this nostalgic conversation. It wasn't the most pleasant period of her life and she'd rather not relive it, especially not now, not here for God's sake.

They stared out into the sea, absently watching a small rowing boat bobbing towards the shore amongst the angry tide.

"But we must talk about it!" Matthew said in unexpected fervour, forcing her to sigh heavily. "Mary I don't want to make you uncomfortable by dredging up the past but I feel as though we need to have this conversation if we're to survive this war together."

"Why?" Mary asked in weary curiousness.

"Well, after we married, we never really talked about the first war because we didn't need to. We thought it was all done and dusted but evidently," He waved his palm around the beach, gesturing to the soldiers tottering along the beach in the dim moonlight, "It's only led to this. And this one is much, much worse." He pointed to the rower's boat which was being hauled onto shore. "Look at them Mary. Look how broken this world has become…"

But Mary wasn't listening.

A familiar silhouette had caught her eye. She'd recognise that figure anywhere. It was being lifted carefully out of the rower's boat and rested on a stretcher which had been hastily summoned.

"Matthew." She gripped his arm hard, her teeth clenched in anticipation while her heart accelerated in anxiety and fear.

"Darling what is it?" Matthew asked in alarm, following her gaze to the boat. He squinted into the darkness, his eyesight not quite as clear as it used to be. "It's a rowing boat isn't it?"

"Yes." Mary replied in a voice barely audible, "But look Matthew." She pulled herself up on shaking legs and started to stumble towards the direction of the stretcher which was now being carried away quickly to a nearby medics truck. "Joseph!" She screamed, breaking into a trot and then a canter, her eyes becoming wide with hope. "Joseph!" She screamed again, desperate to keep him in her gaze.

Matthew froze. His lips parted in shock while his eyes filled with tears of…joy, relief, hope, he couldn't name it. He tore off after his wife, both of them screaming for their son. They skidded to a halt beside the truck.

"Oh my God." Matthew rasped, "Joseph…"

Mary clutched Matthew's arm for support, both of them sucking in sharp breaths while they gaped at the figure lying on the stretcher under the flickering amber glow of the medic's truck. There was no mistaking it, he was definitely their son. Only, he didn't look like the boy they knew and loved. His face was bruised, battered and torn, his once rich brown tresses now hung like limp strands to his forehead and his left shoulder was being examined by the doctor and his team of medics.

"What's happened?" Mary whispered, her eyes raking her son's face, never leaving it for a second. It was too familiar, all of this was just too familiar!

"That's where he was shot." Matthew answered quietly, his eyes also fixed on his son's fragile and broken frame and feeling completely useless at his inability to do anything about it!

"Papa? Mama?" Joseph choked in a dry voice, lifting his head up a few inches so he could really see them, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming or imagining it. "Is that really you?" His head felt light, so very light and his eyes were growing heavy. He didn't know if he was going to slip into another state of unconsciousness or slip away forever this time. He just didn't know and he was glad to be able to speak to them one last time.

"It's really us Joe." Matthew rushed forward to grab his son's free hand, Joseph squeezed it back in recognition. "Mama and Papa are right here." He stroked his son's damp hair, careful to avoid a small cut on his forehead which was leaking blood. "We're right here and we're not going anywhere."

Mary covered her hand over Matthew's. "He's right darling. We're right here with you." She glanced up at the doctor who was swiftly unpacking all the instruments he'd need. "How bad is his injury doctor?"

"I need to find out milady." The doctor answered with a tight smile.

A nurse quickly tilted a bottle of antiseptic onto a cotton ball muttering sympathetically to Joseph, "Now this might sting a little Captain." She cautiously started dabbing the antiseptic soaked cotton onto an open wound on Joseph's forehead. He hissed in pain, clutching his father's hand tighter.

"It's all right son." Matthew soothed, trying to force some determination into his shaking voice.

Joseph stretched his lips into a thin smile while the nurse continued to clean up his cuts in silence. "I'm so glad I get to see you because -" He coughed, "I have something to tell - you." He swallowed painfully before continuing, "Remember when you thought Edward broke Great-Granny's Swarovski crystal vase?"

"Joe -"

"He didn't!" Joseph breathed quickly, "It was me! We were running around - the lounge and I - I knocked it off – Eddie took the blame for me – you never knew it was me!"

"Oh Joe!" Mary sighed, "You know I don't care about any of that!"

"But you should -" Joseph broke off into another coughing fit, "It's important you know the truth."

"Don't talk," Matthew warned in a gentle and loving voice, trying not to let the crack in his emotions show through. "You're injured and you need your rest. Now just lie still and let them work on you, we're going to be here by your side."

"Your father's right." The medic said softly, preparing to undo his makeshift bandage, "You'll have plenty of time to come clean and confess your sins, after we patch you up!"

Joseph gave him a weak chuckle, tensing slightly as his bandage was unwrapped, forcing the pressure off his wound.

"Now, Captain Crawley I'm doctor Hewitt, I'm going to examine your wound and see how bad the damage is. This might be quite unpleasant." He added to Joseph's parents.

"We're still staying." Mary said with resolution.

Dr. Hewitt nodded and started to unravel the crimson stained cloth. As he unwrapped the bandage, the crimson stain grew larger until it was starting to soak through. Joseph's breathing grew ragged and hoarse, he felt like a weight was compressing onto his chest, physically blocking all the air from his lungs.

"Papa," He gasped, "Papa I can't breathe."

"He can't breathe!" The words tumbled from Matthew's lips in a panic. Dr Hewitt ordered pressure on the wound before extracting a small knife.

"What's that for?" Mary asked, eyeing the knife warily. Where was he going to stick that?

"I need to make a hole in the in the bullet wound to ease the pressure off." He mumbled, "Then I can get the bullet out – but we need to stop the bleeding first. Ready." He poised the knife above the torn hole in Joseph's flesh. The nurse and a medic restrained Joseph's body so he couldn't move.

Matthew felt Joseph's fingers involuntarily tighten around his hand. Dr. Hewitt started to poke the blade into the hole. Joseph twisted in their grasp, screaming in torture.

Mary felt her heart clench at the sight of the pure agony etched upon her son's face, his scream ringing in her ears. Never, never would she forget that sound!

"Ssh.." Matthew weakly tried to comfort his son but couldn't ignore the sickening, wretched feeling stirring in his gut at the sight of his son writhing and spitting in pain and he still couldn't make it go away. Instead, all Mary and Matthew could do was watch as this stranger healed their eldest child, trying to find some faith in the fact that he had come back to them, alive.

* * *

><p><strong><em>June 4<em>****_th _****_1940_**

_Joseph was running along the smooth lawn of his childhood and future home, trying to keep the figure in view. She kept on running, gliding gracefully, her chestnut locks flowing freely. She turned to laugh at him._

_"Keep up Joe!" She teased, the sunlight glistening in her olive coloured eyes._

_"Amelia slow down!" He yelled, "I'm not as fast as you are!"_

_Amelia just stopped and waited for him to catch up. "Joe." She called, her voice wavering into a thin whisper, her figure was starting to fade away into the sunlight, "Joe…Joe…"_

"Joe? Joe?"

Joseph blinked himself awake, his head feeling heavy. He struggled to lift his eyelids open, only to see…

"Amelia?" He slurred, not daring to believe it. "Amelia is that you?"

Amelia Napier smiled warmly at him, she slipped her hand into his and squeezed it. "Yes it's me. Georgina called me and told me that you were at Dunkirk so my father and I took the first train down to Dover. We've been here since Rebecca's birthday."

"Rebecca's birth – what day is it today?" Joseph asked in weary alarm.

"It's the fourth of June." Amelia answered gently, "You're in hospital. You've been drifting in and out of consciousness for days. You don't remember?"

Joseph sighed, "I – I don't know." He vaguely remembered a conversation he had heard but it he couldn't figure out if it was reality or a dream. "Where's everyone else?" He tried to move his left arm but his shoulder was too heavily bandaged.

"Probably getting some sleep I suspect." Amelia said with a small laugh, "They've all been taking it in turns to sit beside you until you woke up. You did, a few times but you were so groggy I don't think you remember."

"So everyone's still here?" Joseph asked in disbelief. He tried to lift his head up to examine his surroundings but he couldn't see past the pale blue curtain encircling his bed.

"Yes of course! We couldn't very well leave you as you are."

"Well I don't want to cause more trouble." Joseph grumbled.

"You're not." Amelia said with forced patience, "You've had a terrible injury and you need time to recover." She reached for the jug of water by his bedside and poured him a glass while he just watched her with diligent eyes. "Here drink this Joe, it'll make you feel better, you've been without water for days and you're suffering from dehydration." She brought the glass to his lips. He sipped the water gratefully, releasing a pleasant sigh as his thirst was finally quenched. Amelia set the glass down. "You should eat something as well, that way you can gain your strength back." She stood up and straightened her skirt, shooting him another smile, "I'm going to go and get you some soup."

"I'm not one of your patients Mia." Joseph replied in a bland voice. He flicked his eyes towards her, "Or your – sweetheart. So you needn't trouble yourself with me."

Amelia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Joe I've known you my whole life. When it comes to you, it's no trouble. No trouble at all."

Joseph sidled another glance towards her, trying to keep his voice casual yet his hand was curling into a tight fist atop the bed sheets. "Oh? But what if it were Henry Bentinck lying here? Would you not consider him to be a trouble?"

Amelia blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Henry Bentinck." Joseph repeated, trying and failing to keep the jealousy out of his voice. "I heard you two were becoming quite acquainted nowadays."

All Amelia could do was stare at him. He stared back at her, his blue eyes challenging.

It had come down to this.

He had been stranded on a beach for days, shot in the shoulder, thrown back into the sea and left for dead, just about making it back alive and the only concern he had on his mind was her affiliation with Henry Bentinck.

"Are you being serious?" She asked with a quirked brow, still recovering from the initial shock from his current state of mind.

Joseph jerked his head in a shrug, "I'm just asking an innocent question. You're my best friend and Henry Bentinck – was my friend too, so I'm just expressing my concerns regarding my two close frie -"

"Oh for Heaven's sake Joseph, Henry Bentinck is just a friend that's all." Amelia said in a disgruntled fashion, "I promise you if there was anything happening with Henry or anyone, you'd be the first to know. But nothing is going on. After you left, I threw myself into helping the war effort and became absorbed in my work. True, lately Henry has been sniffing around me like some kind of spaniel but he's so infuriating you don't even know the half of it!"

"But – but there were rumours going around London that you've been courting each other for months!" Joseph sputtered before he could stop himself. "Everyone says so!"

"Oh do they?" She huffed, "And who exactly is the source of these ridiculous rumours?"

Joseph squirmed uncomfortably under her sharp gaze. No, if he even breathed Rosamund's name he knew that sharp gaze would turn to daggers. "Well – I – you know what, never mind." He murmured.

Amelia released a slow, patient breath, "You're tired, hungry and need some rest. I'll go get that soup." She ducked out of the curtain surrounding his bed and stalked away from him, her heels clicking on the polished floor.

She looked up absently and found herself staring at the Earl and Countess of Grantham. "Lady Grantham! Lord Grantham!"

"Amelia darling!" Mary pulled the young girl into an embrace and pressed a swift kiss to her cheek. "Thank you for spending time with him."

"How is he doing Amelia?" Matthew asked, lowering his voice. He nodded to his son's bed, "Is he awake now?"

Amelia nodded, "He is and he was quite surprised to see me but I think he could sense that I'm not going anywhere." Both Mary and Matthew beamed at her dedication to their son. "But he's also very dehydrated and lacking nutrition. I'm going to get some soup for him now so if you could make sure he drinks something…"

"Of course!" Matthew said quickly. "Thank you Amelia, you didn't have to do this you know."

"I know but I want to." Amelia said quietly. She smiled at them both and scurried away.

Mary gazed at the girl who would've replaced her as Countess, her face a picture of pure fondness as she watched her leave. She turned to Matthew with a smile, "I do hope Joseph changes his mind about her. They're so good, so natural together."

Matthew grabbed her arm and proceeded to usher her down the aisle, muttering, "It's not for us to decide – or meddle so before you get any ideas – don't!"

"But I thought you wanted them to marry!" Mary protested in confusion. "I can't think of anyone better to fill my shoes than Amelia, I mean look how well she's taking care of Joseph!"

"Yes but you must let it happen by itself." Matthew said wearily, "Otherwise it'll only bring more trouble. Besides, you don't know if she still feels the same way. Her dedication towards him might not mean anything."

Mary stopped and faced her husband. He stared back at her, startled. It was an innocent comment yet it had struck a sharp twinge within Mary. "On the contrary Matthew," She said in a soft yet firm voice, "It means everything." She marched away from him, her heels clicking on the freshly polished floor.

Even with his eyes closed, Joseph heard his mother's footsteps approach his bed as she pulled back the curtain. He heaved a disgruntled sigh. "I'm really in no mood to talk to anyone right now Mama."

Mary tried not to show the hurt flashing across her face at the dismissive tone laced in her son's voice. But she remembered how low Matthew's mood had been after he'd been injured and knew that Joseph would find a way to smile again. "Oh. Well I thought since you seemed to be talking with Amelia, you might be up to a little conversation?" She said mildly.

Joseph didn't say anything.

"You and Amelia look like you're getting along well." Mary pressed in a light-hearted voice.

Joseph released a rattling breath but still didn't say a word.

"It was so nice of them to come down here all this way. Wasn't it Matthew?"

"How's the arm son?" Matthew's direct question forced Joseph's eyes to snap open in surprise. Both his parents faces stared down at him with love and concern etched on their faces.

"It's all in my shoulder actually." Joseph replied in a dry voice, almost spitting out the words. "And I can't feel a damned thing Papa. I can't even move it." He turned to the side, tears of frustration glistening in his cerulean eyes. "I think it's gone for good."

"Don't be silly." Mary scolded lightly, perching on the end of his bed and reaching for his hand. "It just needs time to heal that's all."

Joseph surreptitiously slipped his hand out of his mother's, sliding it up the bed to clasp the tip of the sheets in anger. "No. It doesn't because it's beyond healing. My shoulder's going to remain completely useless forever, that's what all the doctors in Dover are saying."

"That's rubbish!" Matthew retorted before he could stop himself.

"Oh no it isn't." Joseph responded in a voice so calm it was chilling. "I heard them talking about it last night Papa."

"What? Who?" Mary asked sharply, angry that the doctors would dare have such a conversation in front of her son.

Joseph just released a bitter laugh. "I thought I was dreaming but now I realize that what I heard was probably all – true."

"Oh my darling." Mary tried to stroke his forehead but he jerked away from her touch. It was ungrateful of him to do so, he knew. He had been craving for the touch of his mother for just once before he died and now here he was, with both his parents and he didn't want to be near them. Truth be told, he couldn't bear the anxious looks they were giving him. He could only handle enough anxiety for himself.

"At least you don't have to worry about me going back." Joseph said in a hollow voice, "To the army or the RAF. They'd never take me with my ineffective shoulder that can't even control my arm." He tried to move his shoulder but remained as stiff as wood. He then tried forcing his arm to lift an inch off the bed but it just gave in under the strain. "See?"

"All I can see is that you're only going to do your arm and shoulder more damage by trying to force it to move!" Mary said with severity. "Now you're going to come home with us and your arm will heal! You'll see!"

Joseph just nodded sceptically. "I admire your enthusiasm Mama. But please, let's be realistic."

"I am being perfectly realistic!" She retorted in a clipped voice.

Joseph's eyes flicked towards his father who stood rooted to the spot, just staring at his son. Matthew inched closer to Joe's bed, his mind whirring desperately with all the positive and comforting words he could say to his eldest son. The only thing he could think of was – 'Well at least you're not a cripple.'

"Joe, you still have both your legs intact," Matthew said, his voice vibrating with suppressed emotion. Mary closed her eyes at the subtle message embedded between his voice. "You can walk, you can run, hell you can probably even skip if you wanted to! You have your sight and all your organs in perfect working order. So what do I see? Well, I see that you've been rather lucky given the possibilities!"

Joseph's jaw dropped in shock while he gaped at his father. Whatever words he had been waiting to hear, it sure as hell wasn't that. They were all true of course but it still stumped him.

"Oh, hello." Amelia's soft voice drifted towards him. She shuffled closer to them with a bowl of steaming soup clutched in her hands. "Joe, I have your lunch here. Which you will eat." She added after Joseph opened his mouth to protest.

"We'll leave you to it!" Matthew said quickly, patting Amelia's arm and tugging on his wife's hand, "Come Mary, I have some - calls to make." He practically dragged her out of that damned hospital in his desperation to escape those demons that still refused to leave him alone.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	30. High Flight

**Author's Note: **Hey sorry for the delay! Well, here's the next chapter! It deals a lot with Joseph's recovery, future and a big surprise at the end!

So read it and please tell me what you think!

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 30 -High Flight<span>**

The Summer following the tragedy that was Dunkirk sent the whole country on tenterhooks. Dunkirk was, as both Churchill and Matthew had described – 'A miracle!' A miracle for Churchill in the sense that during those pitiful days, Britain had come dangerously close to losing their battle and a miracle for Matthew was in the sense that his son had managed to make it through alive.

Of course it hadn't been easy for any of them. Joseph's close brush with death only highlighted the dangers which awaited them. Edward was now subtly regretting his decision for joining up at the tender age of sixteen. If he had waited to be conscripted it would have bought him at least another two years. Two years he could've spent with his family rather than gambling with his life. Gambling being the operative word in his case. More and more he needed to find some kind of recluse to channel all this anxiety he was harbouring and the only way he could do that was in the form of a betting slip.

Joseph managed to gradually regain partial use of his shoulder. After he returned to Downton he couldn't even move it properly. Every mealtime was an endless struggle for not just himself, but his family also who were forced to look on without intervening due to his stubborn insistence. His mood throughout the whole ordeal remained hostile and consistent. Even Amelia was being treated with cold indifference but she merely reprimanded his behaviour and told him that he could've ended up much worse. This only darkened his sullen mood.

"Here, darling would you like me to do that for you?" Mary had asked one morning while they watched Joseph struggling to butter a simple piece of toast with his stiff arm.

"No!" He had snapped, almost flinging his knife down in anger and startling everyone present. "I don't need to be treated like a child Mama!"

Matthew stiffened, preparing to make the excuse that Joseph was succumbing to depression due to his injury but the more sour his attitude towards the family became, the more enraged Matthew grew. Especially as poor Benjamin couldn't understand why his brother was in such a foul mood and would no longer play with him. Oh yes, Matthew certainly had to hold in all the frustration he felt. Of course Joseph had been through hell but he wasn't crippled was he? He could still walk couldn't he? But Matthew of all people knew he had to keep his mouth shut and help his son deal in a calm and measured way. Anger would only make things a lot worse. But whenever he tried to broach Joe with the subject, he just received an indifferent grunt in response.

So they left him alone, as painful as it was to watch, they knew the only way to help him was to leave him alone. But while the months sailed by, Joseph's arm along with his mood began to improve considerably and the Crawley family still found some flicker of hope ignited within their hearts at his incredible progress.

* * *

><p><em><strong>July 30th 1940<strong>_

On this particular afternoon Joseph was paid an unusual visit from a group of people he never thought he'd see again.

He was sat outside on the bench under the large oak tree, just basking in the sheer pleasantry of being home and vowing to never take it for granted. It was in these few months that Joseph Crawley realised how privileged his life really was.

"Lord Downton?"

Cutler's deep yet hesitant voice jolted him out of his pleasant reverie. He turned sharply, plastering on a smile only to have it fade upon his lips as his eyes wandered to the two people trailing behind the butler. The two people decked in a navy blue, RAF uniform.

Joseph's mouth fell open.

"My Lord these gentlemen, I'm sure you know, are from the RAF," Cutler explained swiftly, "And they say that they are already acquainted with you?"

"Yes, yes they are!" Joseph replied quickly, standing up and straightening his demeanour, flushing in slight humiliation at the principled address in front of his former colleagues. "I'll take it from here, thank you Cutler."

Still casting a suspicious glance over the gentlemen, Cutler bowed and left them to it.

"Air Chief Marshal Lennox. Squadron Leader Trevelyan." Joseph said formally, nodding at each of them. "What er – what brings you all the way here to Downton? Surely you weren't just stopping by?"

Both men exchanged raised brows at Joseph's slightly cool greeting. Not that they could blame him. It had been quite a frosty departing. Joseph had got on very well with Frederick Trevelyan, they had trained together and worked together for a short time. But Air Chief Marshal Rufus Lennox was a different matter altogether.

"Or perhaps you've just come to gloat?" Joseph suggested, directly at Lennox.

Frederick's face hardened from compassion into indignation, "Of course we haven't! What's the matter with you?"

"This!" Joseph retorted, trying to shrug his partially rigid shoulder, "This is the matter with me!"

"Look, Captain Crawley," Lennox started, almost spitting out the word 'Captain.' "I know a lot of things were said the last time we spoke -"

Joseph snorted. "You said them. I just hung my head in guilt and listened while you reproached me for my – what was the word you used? Ah, yes – betrayal!"

Frederick rolled his eyes. "For goodness sake Joe I do wish you'd just listen! We have a proposition for you which I'm sure you'd be keen to take."

"Oh?" Joseph would've folded his arms if his left shoulder had permitted him to, "And what proposition could you possibly have for me now?"

Lennox swallowed, fidgeting with his hands before answering evenly, "I'm sure you're aware that Britain is heavily reliant on the airforce at the moment. But unfortunately, in the last four months alone, we've lost over forty of our best men."

Joseph's face melted into sympathy. "Oh. I'm…I'm so sorry." Could he have been there to save them had he stayed?

"So are we." Lennox fired back. Joseph looked up at the severity of his tone. He continued, "Now, Crawley, despite what passed between us – I still stand by on my opinion that you were a damn good pilot. You were. If you had stayed, I think you could've worked your way up to Squadron Leader by now, just like Trevelyan here." Here clapped Frederick's shoulder. "Or even Wing Commander or Group Captain. But as it happens, you didn't stay."

Joseph tore his eyes away, his heart pinching with every word that was spoken. "No I didn't. Well I hope I was a better pilot than I was a soldier." He mumbled, glancing at his shoulder.

"That's actually what we've come to talk to you about Joe." Frederick said lightly, "Not long after you returned, we came into the acquaintance of two young Polish gentlemen who claim to have known you."

"Poitri Narwisko and Andrzej Kowalski?" Joseph said without a beat. "You've already met them?"

"They volunteered to work for us." Lennox said in a haughty voice, "They already claimed that they were pilots, nevertheless we put them to every test and trial yet I have to say they performed remarkably well."

Joseph smiled, "Good on them!"

"Indeed. But we actually came to ask you if you'd be interested in returning to the RAF." Air Chief Marshal Lennox said in a tight voice.

Joseph just gaped at them. "What? You'd do that? You'd really let me back in after everything I said and did?"

"It wasn't an easy decision Crawley, believe me." Lennox said gruffly, "But I've been in some serious talks with the RAF Marshal and we both agree that the shortage of Pilots at the moment is staggering, and we need all the good ones we can get. We don't want to place the new recruits in our brand new Spitfires just yet so we need someone to show them the ropes as well as being familiar with the aircrafts and the process."

"So you want me?" Joseph asked in a daze.

"We certainly do. We'd be fools to let you slip through the hook again." Lennox adjusted his prestigious cap, mumbling, "You're a good boy Crawley, I'm sure you'll make the right decision."

"You don't have to answer right away." Frederick said hastily, anticipating Joseph's response, "It's a big ask. We know, but just think about it and let us know."

"Soon." Lennox added pointedly, "If the catastrophe that was Dunkirk is anything to go by, we're all going to hell within the next few months!"

"Anyway," Frederick ploughed on, noticing Joseph's face pale, "Think about it and let us know. But do remember that we're in trouble too and we need as many pilots we possibly can on our side. I echo Air Chief Marshal Lennox Joe. You were a damn good pilot. I remember." He smiled thinly. "We'll see ourselves out."

He nodded at Joseph and turned to leave, almost colliding straight into Rebecca. "Sorry!" Frederick apologized and side-stepped past her.

Rebecca gazed up at him for a moment, admiring his finely carved features but the young man didn't even throw her a second glance. She just shook her head dismissively and sidled up to her brother who was still very much in shock at the conversation he had just had.

"Joseph are you all right?" Rebecca asked in concern. Joseph meekly nodded. She jerked her head towards the departing men. "They're from the RAF aren't they? What on earth did they want?"

"They asked me back into the RAF Becky." Joseph whispered, hardly daring to believe it himself. "They actually asked me back in?"

Rebecca squealed in excitement. "Congratulations! That's what you wanted isn't it?"

It only took those words.

"Wait!" He yelled, jogging towards the two men who had stopped and turned towards him in surprise. Joseph reached them and hesitated in contemplation. "Look – I want back in." He said in a low voice, trying to conceal his underlying relief at having to never return to the army. "I'll come back."

"Oh Joe, that's splendid, absolutely splendid!" Frederick seized his hand and shook it, "Thank you so much! You have no idea how much you've saved us!"

Joseph stretched his lips into a smile, his stomach suddenly churning with anxiety at the subtle smirk on Air Chief Marshal Lennox's face.

"Yes Crawley," He said casually, "You are becoming quite the saviour indeed."

* * *

><p>"Nnnneeeeewwwww Beeerrchhh!"<p>

"Benji," Matthew said in controlled patience, shooting an exasperated glance at his son who was sprawled out on the floor in his study, kicking his little legs and playing with his toy aeroplanes, "Do you think you could keep the noise down please. Papa's trying to work."

"But war is noisy Papa!" Benjamin protested, moving his toy hurricanes in an arc above his head. "Nnnnneeeeewww Beeerrcchh!"

Matthew licked his lips in irritation, shuffling the papers on his desk. "I know son, but I have some very important letters to read. Do you think you could maybe go to your playroom?"

"I like playing in here!" Benjamin answered with simplicity, forcing Matthew to sigh in defeat. Benjamin immediately changed his facial expression to one of mild anger as he forced the planes to attack each other. "Die, die, die Nazis die!"

"Oh God." Matthew groaned to himself, turning back to his pile of letters.

Now that word had got round that Matthew had contacts in the war office, more and more families in the village had either written or personally begged him to help save their son or loved one from conscription. It was one of the hardest conversations Matthew had ever had. Having to sit down (with much prodding from Isobel) and tell these people that conscription was beyond his control and if he made exceptions for one, he had to make exceptions for everyone. However, his eyes widened in wonder as he noticed the prestigious Denville crest stamped across one small, square envelope. What on earth could the Duke of Denville want from him that he couldn't do himself? Surely he couldn't want his help to save his son from conscription? Matthew snatched up the letter and ripped it open, scanning the contents with growing surprise.

The door opened suddenly, Georgina strode in with another letter in her hand. "The Harlow's personally sought me out at the station and pushed this into my hand." She said with a small sigh, placing the envelope in front of her father. "That's the second one they've written this week Papa. I think their son turns eighteen next month. They're getting incredibly desperate."

Matthew heaved an agitated sigh, "They do know my hands are tied don't they? There's nothing I can do, why do they keep asking me? It's uncomfortable."

Georgina shrugged, "But they feel comfortable with you Papa, that's why they feel they can come to you about things like this. There's nothing wrong in that is there?"

Matthew didn't answer her. "Where's everyone?" He asked absently.

"Oh, Edward and Mama are in the front salon and the last time I saw Joe, he and Rebecca were talking to a couple of RAF officers."

Matthew's head snapped up as did Benjamin's. "What?" Matthew asked sharply.

"RAF? Pilots? They're here?" Benjamin asked, clambering up into a kneeling position and barely concealing his excitement.

Georgina just blinked in confusion at her father's reaction. "Didn't you know? I – I saw them when I was coming back from my shift. Joe's very engaged in conversation."

Matthew bolted out of his chair, darting around his startled daughter and not bothering to wait for his impatient son who scrambled to his feet and took of tearing after him, screaming "Wait for me Papa!"

* * *

><p>Joseph tilted his head towards the beaming sun, allowing the warm rays to wash over his face, longing to savour the moment –<p>

"Joe!"

Joseph's eyes flew open. The pleasant moment had gone.

He pinched the bridge of his nose at the sound of his father's impatient tone, forcing his eyes open and turning towards the direction of his father's voice.

Matthew strode straight toward his son, his face etched with worry while Benjamin scampered behind him.

"Joey!" Benjamin squeaked, his little face falling at the sight of his brother standing there alone. "Joey where are the RAF pilots, have they gone?"

Joseph nodded. "But don't worry Benji, you'll be seeing a lot more of them in the future." He added with a wink.

"Why, what did they want?" Matthew asked, fear stirring in his gut.

"They asked me back Papa." Joseph breathed with a happy smile, "Can you believe it? They actually want me back?"

Matthew rubbed his hand over his chin, licking his lips, chewing on his lip, trying to do anything to avoid answering his eldest. So he turned to his youngest with a forced smile. "Benji can you go back inside the house please."

Benjamin released a small huff and stomped back to the house, muttering to himself.

"You're not pleased for me are you?" The question tumbled from Joseph lips while the smile slipped off his face.

"Should I be pleased?" Matthew countered, his voice shaking with anger. "What do they want with you?"

"They just want me back Papa." Joseph answered sheepishly, not quite making eye contact. "I mean, they said they weren't going to put me in a brand new spitfire just yet. But once -"

"Joseph you're injured." Matthew stated with as emphasis as he could. "How can they possibly expect you to resume your role as pilot when you've got…" He waved his hand towards Joseph's arm which was cradled snugly in a sling.

Joseph glanced at his arm and then glared at his father. "Got what? An inoperable shoulder? It's healing, I should be able to move my arm properly in a couple of weeks!"

"You still mustn't put strain on it!"

"It's just my arm! Calm down, I still have both my legs!" Joseph retorted.

Matthew's head jerked up as though he'd been punched. He was completely rendered speechless. "What do you mean by that?" He asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

Joseph just frowned. "Remember Douglas Bader?"

Oh. That was what he was talking about. Matthew allowed himself to breathe a slow, immense breath of relief before nodding. "I do. He's the young pilot who lost both his legs doing aerobatics back in thirty-one."

Joseph nodded, his eyes shining with admiration. "When I was training for the RAF, I actually met him. He's such an inspiration. For someone to have lost both his legs but still able to fly with prosthetics, at the age of twenty-nine! It shows us that we can do anything."

Matthew swallowed his anxiety at the risk of squashing his son's newfound excitement. Truly, it was the first time he had seen him this happy in months and he just didn't have the heart to damage the fragile sentiment just yet. Instead, he just took a deep breath and plastered on a false smile to mask the intense worry that was threatening to seep through. "Yes Joe. Let Douglas Bader's unfortunate loss of his legs show us that we mustn't take opportunities for granted."

He deliberately ignored the stupefied look on his son's face as he turned to make his way back to the house, calling back absently, "Oh by the way, the Duke of Denville and his family are coming for dinner next week. Maybe you can talk with his son." He muttered the last words in a voice dripping with bitterness, "From what I know, he's in the RAF as well."

* * *

><p>During the awaiting week for the arrival of the Duke and Duchess of Denville, Lady Mary grew into a state of such excitement, flitting from room to room, making sure that there was not an inch of wood or furniture that went undusted or unpolished, irritating every member of the upstairs household and irking every member of downstairs.<p>

Since it had been such a long time since she had thrown a proper house party, she felt this one should be exceptionally grand as they were hosting a Duke and his family. When Matthew had subtly mentioned that they'd be bringing along their only son, Mary's eyes grew wide with excitement, promptly ordering a disgruntled Georgina to comb through her wardrobe to see if she still had anything extravagant enough to wear.

* * *

><p><strong><em>August 5th 1940<em>**

On the evening of their arrival, despite Edward's teasing, the women in the household disappeared into their rooms to prepare themselves for the imperative dinner.

Lady Rebecca Crawley slipped out of her room with one hand clasped over her dress. She checked no one was in sight before scurrying down the hall to her sister's room and rapping on the door with some urgency. "Georgie it's me!" She hissed, "Please can I come in?"

"Of course."

Rebecca scooted inside the room where Georgina was just sliding another bobby pin into her carefully completed hair. Eyeing her reflection, she bounced her large curls on her palm seeming satisfied with her style. She turned to her sister with a warm smile, "What's wrong?"

"I just wondered if you had any safety pins." Rebecca murmured, her face flushing in frustration, "It's this stupid dress! I can't zip it up properly, it doesn't seem to want to close!" She tried to tug the flimsy material over her stomach but it wouldn't stretch. "See."

Georgina frowned, leaping out of her seat and inspecting the dress. She tried to heave the zip up but it wouldn't budge. "It is quite tricky," She said through gritted teeth, trying to bunch up the material together and force the zip up. "That's what happens with material rationing. We have to try and wear all the clothes we've outgrown."

"But this is the last dress I bought before the rationing started." Rebecca said with worry creeping into her voice, "And I can't seem to make any of my skirts and dresses fit me anymore!"

"Oh darling you're fourteen, it's nothing." Georgina said gently, deciding it best to give up on trying to force the dress and just work around it instead. She rootled in her top drawer for some safety pins. "You're probably just eating too much that's all."

Rebecca scoffed, "With all this rationing? I don't think so?" She sucked in her breath as her sister fastened the pins in place with great care. "Anyway, I don't understand why Mama's making such a fuss about this stupid dinner. It's obvious she's trying to fling you at the son."

It was Georgina's turn to scoff, "Please, as if I could ever be interested in becoming a Duchess at a time like this." She placed a pin between her teeth, mumbling, "If Mama intends on flinging me at anyone, she'll be sorely disappointed by the end of the night."

"Oh will she?"

Both girls jumped at the sound of their mother's cool voice, Georgina almost stabbing her sister with the safety pin.

"Mama!" Rebecca cried in annoyance, "What are you doing?"

"I'm here checking on you, what are you doing?" Mary asked with a frown.

Georgina casually indicated Rebecca's dress, "Oh, well Rebecca's dress didn't seem to fit so I'm -"

"What?" Mary yelped, bustling into the room and practically shoving Georgina out the way.

"Helping her." Georgina added in a clipped voice, straightening out a small crease on the sleeve of her own dress where her mother had pushed her. "I was just fastening these onto her dress." She dropped the pins into her mother's waiting hand.

"You girls," Mary sighed, shaking her head, "You have no clue how lucky you are when it comes to dresses. You know I had to wear a corset?"

Both girls groaned. Georgina flung herself onto her vanity seat, "We know Mama, you've told us a hundred times!" She held her hand up to her forehead in mock exasperation and adopted her mother's tone, "You could barely breathe in those ghastly things!"

A loud giggle escaped Rebecca's lips, she clapped her hand to her mouth with a small glance at her sister.

Mary's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Fine. Mock the woman who gave you life!" She fastened the last pin in place and patted her daughter's shoulder, "There you are darling. You're all set."

Rebecca did a small twirl, admiring the dark green material flowing around her calves. "It fits much better now!"

"Ah, I almost forgot," Mary held up a long, eyeliner pencil and placed it on Georgina's vanity table.

"Oh Mama must we?" Georgina groaned, rolling her cerulean eyes. "It's so humiliating and it'll never work!"

"Nonsense darling it's the fashion!" Mary replied with indifference, "Besides we're Crawley women, which means we can make it work!"

She breezed out of the room. Rebecca turned to her sister with a curious yet tentative expression. "What's going to be humiliating?"

Georgina picked up the pencil with distaste. "This." She drew a straight black line along the middle of her slender calf. "See? Now it looks like we're wearing stockings!"

"Oh my…!" Rebecca plucked the pencil out of her sister's hand and imitated her movements. She examined her leg in the mirror, her face drooping with disbelief. "You're right. It is humiliating! We never had an ugly mark like that even when we did have real stockings! Oh I wish we had a pair of real stockings now!" She added with longing.

"Here sit down, let me get you ready." Georgina ordered, steering her sister towards the vanity mirror. She teased her golden curls in the reflection. "Let's start with your hair!"

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you're hosting a dinner party in the middle of a war!" Edward grumbled, trudging downstairs in his dinner jacket and looking incredibly handsome.<p>

"They are in the area and are just deciding to stop in for dinner that's all." Mary said airily, trying to shush her son's hair.

Edward ducked away from his mother's fingers, "That's what they all say! Where's Joe?"

"Here." Joseph stood nervously on the top of the second staircase, his left arm hanging stiffly at his side.

"Joseph your arm!" Mary gasped, "It's out of the sling!"

"Yes, what of it?" Joseph asked casually, sauntering down the stairs and adjusting his tie with his right hand. "If I keep it cuddled in that sling all the time, my arm will never heal properly! And I'll be no use to the RAF if my arm's still wooden!"

Mary pursed her lips and didn't say a word although she didn't have to. Her demeanour simply screamed it all.

"I take it Papa's outside?" Edward asked hesitantly.

Mary nodded, "He's waiting to greet them." She replied coolly, "And I've sent Benjamin up to bed early tonight."

"I bet he was pleased about that." Edward said with a small smirk.

The girls came tripping down the stairs, Georgina's hand gently resting on Rebecca's arm, both girls looking simply magnificent in their dresses and adorned with diamonds, both of them just radiating an aura of the Hollywood look. Mary felt her heart swell at the sight of her little Rebecca looking so grown up. Her golden, angel curls were neatly pinned back and her rosy skin blended perfectly upon the green velvet dress, highlighting her growing, sharp and defining features which reminded Mary of her at that age.

"Oh Rebecca you look absolutely beautiful darling!" Mary gushed.

"Of course she does."

All heads turned towards Matthew who had come back inside to check on them. He beamed at his daughters, understanding why they were the subject of pure envy among all the girls and women of London society. "You both look incredibly beautiful." He shot a glance at his wife and quickly kissed her cheek, "Just like your mother."

Mary chuckled and returned the kiss, ignoring Edward's pointed eye roll. "It's fine, I don't mind if my daughters look prettier than me. It means I must've done something right!"

Rebecca stumbled on the last step down, her hand shot out, grasping onto the bannister for support. Matthew sprang forward to catch her, "Darling are you all right?"

"Yes!" Rebecca straightened up, waiting for the room to stop spinning. "I'm just feeling a little dizzy that's all."

"You're probably just hungry," Georgina said with reassurance, tenderly rubbing her sister's arm.

Rebecca nodded weakly, rubbing her temple. "Probably."

"They're here!" Joseph exclaimed suddenly, gaping at the front door where a stream of lights were glowing. Immediately everyone sharpened up, adjusting ties, smoothing skirts and plastering on their winning smiles. Mary steered Georgina towards the end of the line, feeling a surge of pride at the sight of her. Really, her dark hair and blue eyes in contrast to her pale skin and ruby lips, along with her flowing gown of pale pink, all made for a stunning appearance and supported her film star quality. Mary could barely conceal a smirk. Oh yes, her daughters were definitely the belles of the ball tonight!

The Duke and Duchess of Denville marched into the foyer after Cutler, Matthew and Mary strode forward to greet them, all smiles and grace.

"Lord Denville, Lady Denville what a pleasure it is to welcome you into our home!" Mary trilled, reaching for Lady Denville's hand. Naturally, both women eyed each other up, assessing everything from diamonds to shoes.

"I do hope we aren't being a burden on your hands," Lord Denville said anxiously, grasping Matthew's hand warmly. Like the women, both men immediately sized each other up but showed their friendship nevertheless. "It's just that – we have family living here in Downton and we thought we'd stop by and see how you all are. Gosh it must've been what? Thirteen years?"

"Or longer! I wonder, is your son coming at all?" Mary asked in what she hoped was a casual voice, peering over Lord Denville's shoulder.

"Oh yes, here he comes now!" Lord Denville replied, following Mary's gaze with a fond chortle.

All eyes turned towards the Duke's son who breezed through the door. Georgina turned towards him, ready with a welcoming smile but it slipped off her face as soon as she laid eyes on the boy and they both stood there, gaping at each other.

Her jaw dropped in complete and utter shock.

She just couldn't believe her eyes.

It was Dominic.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	31. You Had It Coming To You Too

**Author's Note:** Okay... I am actually quite scared about putting this chapter up, lol because I think you guys are gonna come at me with pitchforks. I swear, I ummed and ahhed about putting in the, uh, Rebecca storyline, because I love you guys and the support - but then that would mean re-writing the whole story and I have this...new, sweet little character created and trust me when I say, this isn't just a silly sub-plot. It's going to play a big part later on and maybe leave it open for a sequal or something. I'm not going to focus on just Rebecca either, as you'll see, Tommy's back!

So, please, please bear with and enjoy the story! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 31 - You Had It Coming To You Too<strong>

"You!" Georgina gasped, all manners and polite pleasantries completely forgotten as she gaped at the young man standing sheepishly before her. She exchanged a bewildered glance at Rebecca who also looked completely stupefied.

"Georgina!" Mary politely hissed, utterly scandalized at her daughter's behaviour in front of such company.

"Good evening Lady Georgina," Dominic greeted, his voice dripping with the utmost charm, "What a pleasure it is to make your -"

"Acquaintance?" Georgina interrupted, glaring him down with her cold eyes which now resembled chips of ice.

"I see you've taken the words right out of my mouth Lady Georgina," Dominic said with an underlying hint of enjoyment, "One wonders what you'll say next."

"Oh really? Are you sure about that?" She retorted in a dangerously low voice.

Lord Denville turned to Matthew with a weary smile and muttered, "It appears that my son and your daughter have met before."

Matthew didn't return the smile. "Yes it does."

Georgina advanced towards Dominic, "You're the son of the Duke and Duchess of Denville!" She stated, pronouncing each word with disdainful emphasis in the hope of intimidating Dominic however he just stood up to face her, tall and proud which only irked her more. "Why did you lie to me?"

Mary's eyes widened. Now she understood. She could do nothing but stare at the handsome young man who had lied to her daughter about his identity to hide the fact that….he was the son of a Duke? That made no sense at all.

"I didn't lie to you," Dominic replied with such casualness it made Georgina's blood boil.

"Shall we all go into the drawing room?" Joseph suggested quickly. "And let these two discuss – this amongst themselves?"

"Oh really? You told me your name was Dominic Hamilton and that your family owned Hamilton's Toyshop!" Georgina rustled, trying to keep her countenance as elegantly as she could despite her growing rage.

"Splendid idea Joseph," Mary half-praised, keeping one eye on her daughter and Dominic whilst gesturing frantically at Cutler who came rushing forward to lead the guests towards the drawing room. "Joseph, Rebecca, Edward you go on ahea – no Edward move!"

Dominic heaved an impatient sigh. "They do. My name is Dominic Hamilton – or if you want to address me properly, Lord Hamilton, son of the Duke and Duchess of Denville." Georgina released a low, angry breath. Matthew moved forward, ready to spring to her defence but Mary held him back. He sharply turned towards her in confusion but she just shook her head.

"And before you berate me some more, I'll just let you know that my family does in fact, own Hamilton's Toyshop!" Dominic continued heatedly.

At Georgina's frown, he pressed on, "My uncle started the business. But he got himself into some God awful debt and my father," Here is tone changed from one of neutrality to sourness, "Bought the company for him and continued to let him run it. However the shock of potential bankruptcy had crippled my dear uncle and he had lost the spark that was in fact Hamilton Toys. So, my parents drafted me in to help them in between school holidays until eventually, I knew all the ropes. But I gained more than just experience in how to run a toyshop. I gained a proper family. My aunt and uncle became more like my parents in those few short months than my parents ever were in my whole lifetime."

Mary shot a glance towards the drawing room to check no one had overheard that little statement.

"And their son, Anthony," Dominic smiled sadly, "Became like a brother to me. My uncle was a good and honest man who made a small mistake and is paying for it." His face suddenly hardened, "Believe me Georgina, he's paying for it!"

"I know." Georgina said quietly, "He lost his son."

Dominic glanced at her, his lips parting as if to contradict her but then decided against it and just nodded. "Look, I'm sorry, I know I should've already told you all this from day one."

"So why didn't you then?" Georgina asked, the anger seeping away from her voice.

"Well, you had just received a letter about your brother leaving the RAF and I was already in the RAF and suddenly, our social positions didn't matter anymore. We're at war. That's it. I didn't see myself as Lord Hamilton. I was an RAF pilot then and I'm an RAF pilot now." Dominic quirked his head to one side while his voice adopted a tone of contempt, "Unfortunately, due to my parentage, I'm also stuck with the aristocracy and it's not something I want to boast about. There's just something about people knowing my true identity and judging me without really knowing me, that really winds me up."

"But it's who you are." Georgina said pointedly, "Your nobility is a part of you and you can't run from it. You cannot expect people to really know you without really knowing all the facts."

Dominic shrugged in irritation at her correct response. "Nevertheless, this Summer has not been kind to RAF. I just want to establish my own identity before my twenty-first birthday so I'll have something decent to stamp across my tombstone. Is that such a bad thing?"

"No it isn't."

They turned to see Matthew marching towards them with a warm smile and a look of understanding etched across his face. He held out his hand for Dominic to accept which he did, most graciously. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm Matthew Crawley, Earl of Grantham," He sidled a glimpse at his daughter before continuing, "And I believe you're Flight Lieutenant Hamilton, is that correct?"

Relief flooded the young pilot's face. "Yes Lord Grantham that is correct."

"Well Flight Lieutenant you must come and speak to my eldest; he's going back into the RAF you know?" Matthew gently led him towards the direction of the drawing room. "And he's still feeling quite nervous, he was injured at Dunkirk…"

Once they had gone, Georgina caught her mother's eye and smiled. "Dear Papa. He always manages to empathise with everyone."

Mary sighed but her eyes still twinkled, "I know. That's what makes him so amazing." She turned to her daughter with a concerned frown, absently playing with the beads on her sleeve. "What about you my darling? Are you all right?"

Georgina raised her brow in exasperation. "All this drama in here! God only knows what's going on out there?"

* * *

><p><strong><em>9:30pm<em>**

Tommy Branson chewed on his thumbnail anxiously as he leant against the wall right outside the 'meeting place.' He sighed with impatience, glaring at his watch. Scott was over half-an hour late. Brilliant! Nervously, Tommy glanced around to check he wasn't being followed. Why they had chosen Wells Street to meet up, he couldn't for the life of him understand. It led right onto Oxford Street for God's sake! Anyone could turn a corner and –

"Branson!"

Tommy whipped around in alarm, relaxing only slightly as he caught the huddled silhouette of his colleague, Scott Jensen, running towards him.

"Ah, Scott, so lovely to grace me with your presence!" Tommy snapped.

"Sorry, you know how London gets around this time!" Scott said defensively, "We've got about ten minutes until they're off again so I have to make this quick!"

Tommy straightened up with a cool expression. "I trust you've managed to bring the documents with you."

Scott proudly revealed the tightly banded file from between the folds of his coat. "It's all here. Everything you need to know about each and every single one of the people in this group." He carefully handed the file to Tommy. Taped to the front was a single, yellow slip of paper headed:

**YOU HAD IT COMING TO YOU**

Tommy scanned the slip of paper, his face morphing into disgust and then incredulity. He glared questioningly at Scott. "What the hell is this?"

"Hitler himself has been dropping those and other notes like those all over the country." Scott answered with a shake of his head, "Isn't he a delight?"

"What does he think he's gaining from doing that?" Tommy asked in disbelief, "France was the one that surrendered and Britain is fighting back thanks to the RAF!"

"You don't need to tell me." Scott said impatiently, "I'm the one that has to deal with the paperwork regarding all those Gerry drop-ins, I haven't had a proper night's sleep in months!"

"None of us have." Tommy responded curtly.

"Anyway, Mr Blackwell told me to tell you to always be on your guard – especially around Fanshawe, he's a nasty piece of work Tommy and he can spot a phony from about five miles away."

"I know how to do my job!" Tommy retorted waspishly.

"Blackwell is just trying to ensure you're safety that's all." Scott said with reassurance, "That and the fact that we're investing a lot of money in this operation."

Tommy sucked in a sharp breath, shoving the file into his leather brown case. "You know, I'm starting to understand my father's anger towards the audacity that you lot recruited an Irishman to spy on your traitors. It doesn't exactly highlight our strengths."

Scott frowned, "No one said working in intelligence was going to be a fair deal. Anyway at least you're doing something for the war. You didn't have to," His tone dropped slightly, "What with your country being neutral and all -"

"You see that right there!" Tommy interrupted heatedly, "All these quips and jibes about how Ireland isn't supporting you by fighting. I for one am doing a hell of a lot more than just fighting! I mean Jesus, if only they knew how much I'm risking for this country -"

"Tommy!" Scott warned, "You know you're under the Secrets Act. If you breathe a word, the consequences are severe. You'll be the one that's got it coming to you if you don't keep your mouth shut."

"I know." Tommy replied with repugnance, "Like I said. I know how to do my job."

* * *

><p><em><strong>11:45pm<strong>_

"I think that went rather well." Matthew said to his wife, giving her a small smirk while she leaned against the bannister, watching him. "Certainly, Dominic seems to be a nice, level-headed young man."

Mary nodded in agreement, a small smile playing around her lips. "And did you see the way he was talking with Georgina?" She sighed in nostalgia, reaching for her husband's hand. "Doesn't it bring back all sorts of memories?"

Matthew chuckled fondly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "It does. Oh, to be young again!"

Mary quirked her brow at him, "Do you really want to be young at a time like this?"

Matthew's smile wilted. "No." He said quietly, his thoughts turning immediately to his beloved boys. "No I don't." He tried to brighten up, "But it's different this time round. Let's just hope that technology is on our side."

"It's on Germany's too I'm afraid." Mary said in a hollow voice, "I know I'm not very knowledgeable when it comes to discussing Spits or Hurricanes -" Matthew released a snicker, Mary couldn't help but smile, "But I do know that Germany's air force is quite strong."

"Fortunately so is ours." Matthew said soothingly, "I've spoken with Dominic and with Joseph's Chief Air Marshal – that Lennox fellow and I'm assured that our planes are every bit as strong as theirs!"

"You say that with such confidence." Mary said warily. "Should I be worried?"

Matthew smiled and opened his mouth to answer her but was interrupted by the angry sound of their son's footsteps cantering down the stairs.

"Tossers!" Edward spat, crumpling up a piece of paper in his hand, his face burning bright red with anger.

"Edward please watch your language!" Mary chided.

"What's happened?" Matthew asked, his relaxed demeanour suddenly rigid with tension.

"Joe and I both received these earlier on today." Edward replied through gritted teeth, "I only just opened it. Joe's threw his in the bin without a second glance but I -" He thrust the wrinkled slip of paper into Matthew's chest. "Just read it."

In a daze, Matthew unfurled the slip of paper and turned to Mary, allowing her to read it over his shoulder. She released a horrified gasp at the heading.

**YOU HAD IT COMING TO YOU TOO**

Matthew read the list out loud, a worried crease furrowed between his brows. "Your Fleet is crippled. Your Air Force has proved inferior. Your artillery cannot compete with the German artillery." He exchanged an ominous glance at Mary, "Your people at home are suffering."

Mary snatched the slip out of Matthew's hands before he could read the rest and promptly tore it into two. "Well I think we should take a leaf out of Joe's book and forget this rubbish."

"But Mama it says right there that we're the fools for declaring war on Germany and we've all been taken for mugs by being called up! Now we're facing certain defeat!" Edward retorted, his cheeks now burning in rage and humiliation. "What gives them the right to say that? Did they honestly think we were going to sit back and let them destroy us piece by piece?"

"Darling calm down." Mary soothed, cupping her son's flushed cheeks and kissing his forehead, "You must pay no attention to the things they say. They're just sending you these letters to get you worked up and – its working isn't it?"

Edward took a deep breath, allowing his anger to just simmer. "I suppose I could ignore it."

"Who sent you these letters?" Matthew asked suspiciously.

Edward shrugged, "There was no return address. I don't know how they got ours." He turned on his heel and stalked back upstairs.

Matthew watched him go, his heart lightening considerably as he turned to Mary. "Thank God you handled that. I'm not sure I've still got the energy to calm Edward down anymore. Is it just me or as gets older, he gets more…exhausting? I thought it'd be the other way round but apparently not."

Mary laughed, "You and Edward have butted heads since day one."

Matthew nodded, a wry smile creeping up on his face, "It's true. Every time I picked up him from his crib, he only cried louder."

They reminisced about the past for a few moments longer before Mary decided it really was time to retire. While Matthew remained downstairs to make his usual phone calls, Mary made her usual rounds to her children's rooms to bid them goodnight. However once she reached outside Rebecca's room, the smile slipped off her face as she heard the sound of deep sobbing coming from inside her room.

Immediately, Mary pushed the door open, finding to her surprise that Isobel was seated on the window seat, while Rebecca sobbed into her lap. Mary shot a puzzled look at her mother-in-law who looked to be in great distress, stroking her granddaughter's curls and gently trying to pacify her.

"Rebecca darling? What's wrong?" Mary asked in a concerned voice filled with love.

Rebecca froze. Very slowly she lifted her head up and turned her devastated, tear soaked face towards her mother. She shook her head, just managing to choke out, "I'm – so – sorry Mama. Please don't hate me."

"Oh darling why would I hate you?" Mary asked in confusion, trepidation stirring in her gut as the maternal instinct started to flood through every inch of her body. "What have you done?"

Rebecca turned her head towards Isobel who carefully shifted her off and stood up to face Mary, saying with the utmost dejection. "Mary. Rebecca's pregnant."

* * *

><p>Tommy took a deep breath, unable to stem the flow of anxiety pulsing through the pit of his stomach. He slipped inside the telephone box and placed a call directly to Ireland, re-dialling his home number – or what had been his home number. He waited and waited, listening to the steady tone poking in his ear, praying that his mother or his sister would pick up the phone.<p>

"Hello?"

Tommy swallowed.

It was his father.

Courage forced the next words to tumble out of Tommy's mouth before he could stop them. "All right Pa? It's me."

He was greeted with a stiffening silence and then a swift slam. The line was cut. Tommy released a snort of disbelief and humiliation mixed with shame and sadness. He slammed the phone back on the hook and with fierce determination made his way back to the boarding house to read those notes.

* * *

><p>Mary just stared at Isobel, all sound completely mute. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was a joke, surely this must be a joke?<p>

"Pregnant?" She managed to choke out with as much grace as she could, "But – but that's not possible. Rebecca can't be pregnant, she's only fourteen." She practically forced the emphasis on the last few words.

Isobel heaved a despondent sigh, shooting a sad glance at her beloved granddaughter, "Mary I have worked in the medical profession for many years. You have to trust me when I say – she's pregnant."

"But I'm telling you she can't be!" Mary countered angrily, "You have to – have done, certain things in order to get that way and she hasn't," Mary frowned at her daughter, addressing her directly, "Darling tell your grandmother it isn't true."

A horrific look of realisation spread over the poor girl's face, chilling Mary to the bone. "Rebecca," She tried to speak more sharply but her tone was breaking, "Tell her it isn't true."

Rebecca licked her lips and shrugged, "I – I don't know." She answered in trepidation.

Mary scoffed in utter disbelief, "You don't know? Don't know what – how can you not know? When did you…?" She shot a look at Isobel, "How many…?"

Isobel closed her eyes, "About four months."

Mary's eyes widened, she clapped her hand to her mouth and turned back to her daughter whose eyes had filled with fresh tears. "Four months." She whispered, muffled by her hand. "You're four months pregnant and you never told me?"

"I didn't know!" Rebecca replied with defiance. "How could I? I thought it was normal for girls my age, all part of growing up, that's what you and Granny and everyone said. And when I stopped my bleeding, I thought it was because of stress!"

"But Rebecca – what did you think you were doing?" Mary asked, her voice on the brink of hysteria, "How could you let this happen to yourself? You!"

Rebecca bit her lip to stop the dam of tears. She wrapped her arms around herself to stop shaking, leaning against her grandmother for support. In that instant all furious thoughts for her daughter vanished, and Mary felt her heart melt at the very sight. She tried to walk towards her but thought against it and instead, sat down on the bed. But one glance at it, filled her mind with unpleasant thoughts. Mary's head dropped into her hands. "Oh God."

They were being punished. She was sure of it.

Isobel gently pushed Rebecca towards Mary. She sidled towards her mother and sat down next to her, her hands fidgeting with a small chain around her neck, a habit she had obviously inherited from her mother along with the disregard for rules.

"I assume Tim is the father." Mary said blandly.

Rebecca nodded shamefully.

"So what happened then?" Mary asked softly.

Rebecca's head snapped towards her, surprised by her kind tone. She glanced at Isobel who nodded with a small smile. Rebecca took a deep breath, "Well, remember that day Tim saved me from Jude Fanshawe? That night – it was rather hot and so I left my window open." Rebecca swallowed her tears and ploughed on, "Tim always used to come to me outside my window. But I never let him in!" She said quickly.

"Until that night?" Mary asked quietly.

Rebecca shook her head, her eyes wide with confusion. "No. I read in bed for a while, and it must've been so hot because I drifted off to sleep. Then – the next thing I remember is feeling very groggy, almost dizzy. It felt as though I was asleep but still awake at the same time."

Mary exchanged a worried glance with Isobel, suddenly, all feelings of dread and disgust fled away to be replaced by anger and fear. "Go on."

"I thought I heard Tim's voice. It sounded lovely. He was saying all sorts of things to me. That he was going off to war and we should, seize the day. It sounded funny, like his voice was so far away but I remember him touching my face, lovingly." Rebecca tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in embarrassment, "I just remember thinking that it was all a dream. It all seemed so dreamlike. Every sound, every touch. But looking back on it now – it can't have been a dream can it?"

Mary closed her eyes, blocking her own tears from breaking free and when she spoke, her voice sounded dead. "No darling. I don't think it was a – dream."

"Is it my fault?" Rebecca asked in a panic, "Because I never would have allowed him into my room Mama, never! I used to turn him away, I promise you!"

"We believe you darling!" Isobel said quickly, rushing to her granddaughter's side. "Of course it isn't your fault. You've been taken advantage of that's what's happened."

"And now we have the result." Mary said thinly, "The awful result."

"Mary are you down here?"

All three heads in the room snapped towards the doorway as Matthew's playful voice drifted towards them.

Mary and Rebecca stood up in unison; Rebecca clutched her mother's arm in fear. "Oh God Mama, what do we tell Papa? He's going to despise me and I couldn't bear that!"

"No Rebecca." Mary whispered. "He'll never despise you." She could say or do nothing more except stare blankly at the doorway, waiting for him to emerge. Which he did – all warm smiles for his mother, wife and daughter.

The smile faded on his lips as he took in his wife and mother's distressed appearance and his daughter's tear-stained face.

"What's going on?" He asked humbly.

Mary finally wrapped an arm around her daughter, straightening up with careful demeanour. "Matthew I think you need to sit down. We have to tell you something and it's going to shock you to the very core."

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	32. Stand By Me

**Author's Note:**Well here it is guys! Thank you all so much for the reviews and support! I'm so sorry for the delay but as you can tell, this chapter is REALLY long! As you can imagine had a lot to cover lol. So this chapter deals with the repercussions of Rebecca's situation. (And I was listening to the title song while I wrote it so I thought it quite fitting)

All I can say is - brace yourselves!

Enjoy and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 32 - Stand By Me<strong>

Matthew frowned in foreboding. "Dear me. Why do I get the feeling that it isn't going to be a pleasant shock to the very core?"

"Matthew…" Mary painfully tried to find the words to just say it – it was simple. Just three words. Your daughter's pregnant. Yet somehow it only forced her heart to pinch in despair and disgust. She shot a pleading look at Isobel, begging her for help.

Isobel nodded in understanding. She shuffled closer towards her confused son and gently took his arm, preparing herself for the blow she was about to deliver. She had borne him, raised him, watched him get married, become a father to five beautiful children… and now she had to tell him that he was going to be a grandfather in all the wrong circumstances.

"Mother?" Matthew prompted with indignation, "The suspense is killing me."

"Matthew there really is no easy way to say this so I beg you to be calm and rational." Isobel started in a soothing voice. She rubbed his arm tenderly. "Rebecca is pregnant."

All colour drained from Matthew's face. He did a double-take at his mother, positive he had misheard her. Confusion pumped through to the very depths of his soul.

"I beg your pardon?" He responded with complete bewilderment.

"It's true Matthew." Mary added, finally finding her voice. Matthew's eyes widened as he gaped at her. "She's – four months gone."

Matthew flicked his cerulean eyes to his daughter who was clutching onto her mother's arm. As soon as they made eye contact, he tore away from his gaze. He rubbed his temple, trying desperately to grasp the situation. "I – I don't understand," He sputtered to no one in particular, "How can she be pregnant she's only fourteen years old for Christ sake!"

"Matthew please!" Isobel said a little sharply, sensing a tirade coming on, "You have to listen to her. It wasn't her fault."

"Oh no?" Matthew retorted, his eyes growing small with utter fury, "Whose fault was it then? Ah, I know," He started to pace the room like an angry cat, all other eyes were glued to him warily. "I know whose fault it was. Somehow it's all going to fall on us for not keeping a proper eye on her, isn't it? It's somehow going to be our fault!" He suddenly shot a glare at Rebecca, so fierce she actually backed away. "It was that Timothy fellow wasn't it?" When she didn't reply due to being paralyzed with fear, he raised his voice, "Wasn't it?"

"Matthew hush, you'll wake everyone!" Mary chided, a little shaken by his outburst. "Now please sit down so we can talk. You've received a terrible shock, I know but you don't know all the facts."

"What facts?" Matthew scoffed, "I know enough Mary!" He pointed an accusing finger at Rebecca, "Our fourteen year old daughter has got herself pregnant by a reckless boy who clearly doesn't respect her or us enough to stay the hell away! And judging by her antics, she obviously doesn't respect her family enough! Mary, you should have been watching her!"

"I don't think that's fair." Mary purred.

"It wasn't like that Papa!" Rebecca countered, surprising herself with her defiance.

"Then what was it like?" Matthew shot back through gritted teeth, "You knowingly allowed yourself to be used by him and now you have the – result! You, the smart child -" His voice broke. He turned away, unable to bear looking at her. "Unless he had taken advantage of you in which case…" He trailed off. The haunted looks on the faces of his mother, wife, but most shocking of all, his daughter – explained it all.

Matthew quirked his head towards Mary, begging her to deny it and say it wasn't true but the sorrowful shake of her head told him otherwise. Matthew swallowed over the sickening lump which was rising in his throat. No, no, no! He took it all back! He would much rather have had Rebecca go with Tim willingly and completely on her own accord. That would be her stupid mistake! He'd rage, cry and scream until his throat was hoarse and he was blue in the face, but then at least he'd know it had been her choice. But this… this was just too much to handle.

"Rebecca?" He choked, tears threatening to spill, "He didn't did he?"

"From what Rebecca's told us. He did." Isobel answered sombrely. Matthew's eyes closed and his head dropped in utter defeat. Isobel moved to embrace her granddaughter. "But she doesn't understand it Matthew. This is all very confusing and very frightening to her." She paused. "Not to mention that there's also a baby to think about."

Matthew's head jerked towards Mary's direction but he didn't look at her. Mary raised her head in a daze. A baby. Of course, how could they forget?

"I suggest we all sleep on this and figure out what to do in the morning." Mary said evenly, "That way we can all talk about it as a family and start making plans."

"What – what kind of plans?" Rebecca asked quickly, almost panicked.

Mary turned towards her with a stiff smile. "Nothing you need to worry about." She wiped away her daughter's tears. "Now don't cry. Everything will seem better in the morning. You'll see."

She couldn't exit the room fast enough. Matthew however stayed rooted to the spot, just staring at a blank patch of carpet, his eyes completely lost and forlorn. He swayed slightly, looking as though a small push would shatter him to a million pieces. Indeed that's how he felt now.

"Matthew you need to get some sleep." Isobel said kindly.

"I can't go to sleep!" He snapped as though the idea was positively stupid. The sudden change in his mood caused both Rebecca and Isobel to jump. He strode out of the room sharply, slamming the door behind him.

Rebecca felt herself sink to the bed, her hand unconsciously wandering to her stomach. There was a baby in there… She drew her hand back as though it had been burned. Somehow, she just couldn't fathom it all. "Granny," She piped up softly to Isobel, "What am I going to do? I was late but I thought it was stress, I was sick but I thought it was food poisoning, I can't fit it into any of my clothes but I thought it was just me growing." She rubbed her hand over her temple in frustration, "It's all so real now. And I'm so very scared."

"Hush now," Isobel soothed, sitting down next to her and kissing her head, "It's very important you understand that you're not alone in all this. We're here to help you no matter what. I'll always be here for you."

"Papa's so angry." Rebecca said with widened eyes, "I thought he was going to kill me."

Isobel released a bitter chuckle, "Oh he wants to kill someone all right, but trust me, it isn't you."

"What he did," Rebecca started tentatively, "Tim I mean – coming into my room uninvited and then - it was wrong wasn't it?"

"Yes." Isobel answered with severity, "It was more than just wrong, it was abhorrent!"

Rebecca dropped her head onto her grandmother's shoulder and just stayed there for the longest time, savouring every comforting moment.

* * *

><p>In a scorching rage, Matthew pushed his wife's ornaments off the dressing table with one sweep of his arm.<p>

"Matthew please stop!" Mary begged, leaping out of the way as her jewellery box clattered to the floor at her feet, spilling her accessories everywhere.

"I'm going to kill that boy." Matthew breathed, his face scarlet with anger and his hands clenched into tight fists which he shook at Mary, "I'm going to kill him with my bear hands." He started to march towards the door but Mary hastily grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back.

"No, Matthew no!" She ordered, her eyes glazed with panic, "You can't tell anyone about this! We can't draw attention!"

Matthew gawped at her in disbelief, "Mary are you being serious? Do you know what that scumbag did - has done to our fourteen year old daughter?"

"Of course and I'm seething!" Mary replied cuttingly, "But it still doesn't make Rebecca's situation go away if you run off shouting the odds! We still have her reputation to consider. An unmarried daughter of an Earl, pregnant at fourteen? It wouldn't go down well! I can assure you."

"There's a war on at the moment, I'm sure it'll be fine." Matthew said in a calm fury.

Mary shook her head, "No. It's still not a chance we should take."

Matthew rubbed his chin anxiously, allowing himself to simmer down. "All right. Then isn't there something we can do?"

At Mary's confused look he bit his lip and ploughed on. "I mean – isn't there a way to… you know…" He cleared his throat and shuffled uncomfortably, dropping his voice to a whisper, "Get rid of it."

Mary released a horrified gasp. "No! Girls have died trying to do that!"

Matthew nodded quickly, repulsed with himself for even suggesting it. "I know. I know I'm sorry, it was just an idea."

"Well it wasn't a very good one." Mary responded coldly. "Honestly Matthew what a thing to say!"

Matthew glared at her, "I am trying to protect my daughter!"

"And you think I'm not?"

"Well you're not exactly -"

"There's a baby involved!" Mary interrupted which effectively shut him up. "It might be illegitimate but it's still our grandchild Matthew. We have to think of our family first."

"I am." Matthew said in a pained whisper. "I'm thinking of Rebecca. It's awful – what I suggested, I know darling but… Rebecca is only fourteen and has to come first. She cannot have a child when she's still one herself, she just can't! It's – it's unthinkable!"

"I'll – find a way to put them both first." Mary said firmly. "I don't know how but I'll do it." She tentatively sat down next to her husband and leaned against his shoulder. "What are we going to say to the children?"

"Nothing!" Matthew said sharply, "We tell them nothing until everything's been decided. Edward will be leaving in a month and Joseph has his RAF re-sit next week. I can't have him distracted." He stared at their reflection in the mirror for a good five minutes before replying with anguish, "Besides, I don't want them getting burdened with this. Not with everything else going on. Just let them live with as much blissful ignorance as we can give them. I may not be able to shoulder their burden of war but I can damn well take on anything else that gets hurled our way."

Mary nodded. "Of course. I understand. We won't tell them a thing."

They stared at each other for the longest time before lurching into a strong embrace and clutching onto each other as if the world was going to end.

* * *

><p>Joseph Crawley heaved an agitated sigh as he sat back against the plush velvet settee in the library, wishing he had decided to wait till the morning to read the letter he had received from Frederick. If anything it only made him dread his return to the RAF as once again he was to be thrust into the face of death.<p>

Now, Frederick belonged to a group of the English aristocracy, but his family suffered a position relapse due to losing most of their wealth in the depression. Luckily for Frederick though, his ingenuity as well as his title was enough for him to be accepted in the RAF when war broke out. Just like Joseph. They had known each other briefly as small children before the Trevelyan family had vanished from society entirely. But of course, the war had indeed reunited them again. So Frederick would write to Joseph on occasion, updating him on their fellow Pilots or the status of the RAF. Usually, after reading one of his letters, Joseph would just privately mourn the loss of a friend or comrade. But after reading this letter….he knew that Dunkirk was only just the beginning for him.

The door to the library bolted open, prompting Joseph to jump in shock. The dim light from the corridor sliced through the crack in the door where his father stood, his face a mask of pure anger.

"Joseph." Matthew exclaimed, the anger seeping into surprise at the sight of his son, "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I could ask you the same question." Joseph replied with a wry smile, crouching beside the fireplace and reaching for the fire poker. While he prodded the dying embers to life, he became dimly aware of the delicate clink of glasses behind him as his father slowly made himself a stiff drink.

Joseph subtly threw him a glance over his shoulder and then slowly turned back to the fire. "It's a bit early for that isn't it Papa?" He said in a very measured voice.

Matthew just gave him a dark chuckle, "Technically it's still evening. I haven't been to bed yet and to be honest I don't think I'm going to."

"Why, what's happened?" Joseph asked, carefully watching his father as he flung himself onto the settee and closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"It's nothing to trouble you with son." Matthew responded evenly.

"Have you and Mama had a row?" Joseph pressed with uncertainty creeping into his voice. "Only – when I was on my way down here, I thought I heard some doors slamming down your end…"

Matthew's heart practically dissolved at the sight of his son, crouched beside the fire with a look of complete vulnerability and concern etched upon his face, reminding him so much of the little boy he used to be. It was as if the mature man he had become over the years had suddenly dissolved and he was an innocent child again. That's why it took all the willpower he had within him to stop himself from pouring out the truth to his son. But he couldn't. Fatherhood and the look on his son's face forced him to glue his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

So he just forced a smile and shook his head. "No. We haven't had a row." Matthew cleared his throat nervously, eager to change the subject. "What keeps you up tonight?"

Joseph brandished Frederick's letter at him. "I've been keeping in touch with Frederick. He keeps me up to date with a lot of things."

"London's the prime focus for attack." Matthew said with a small frown. "It's going through hell."

"It is the Capital." Joseph stabbed the poker into the sizzling coals. "The RAF are needed now more than ever. I'm glad to go back. I finally feel like I can be in my comfort zone again."

"Do you? Really?" Matthew asked with emphasis. "You heard Dominic. These air battles are very gruesome." He clutched his glass and stared into auburn liquid. "Remember what Lord Denville said? They're turning Denville Hall into an RAF conveselance home." He shot a glance at his son, "The kind of things he was saying Joe, the injuries that can happen."

"I know Papa," Joseph said smoothly, "I know I'm at a risk of getting burned alive or losing my legs or arms or just dying." Matthew tore his eyes away. Pained by the words, pained by the image, just….pained. Joseph shuffled closer to his father and leaned against the settee. "The thing is – judging by Frederick's letter, this is probably going to be my toughest battle yet." He fidgeted with his hands before continuing in a small voice, "So if anything does happen to me -"

"Joseph -"

"No, if anything does happen, I just don't want you or Mama to fight or split up if things fall to pieces." He swallowed, thinking of Frederick's vivid descriptions of Spitfires tumbling to their demise, men being scorched alive and couldn't shut out the image of his own plane crumbling to the ground… "No – pun intended." He whispered.

Matthew tried to smile but he could feel the tears burning behind his eyes. "Joe, you know this is not what I wanted for you. I wanted to you to live your life, go to University, get married and have children. I wanted that for all of you." He murmured the last few words with a sickening feeling churning in his gut as his thoughts wandered to Rebecca.

"I know you did Papa." Joseph replied sadly. "I know. This isn't your fault. None of it is. This is what's happened and we have to try and get through it."

"It's harder said than done." Matthew muttered, once again thinking about his poor daughter upstairs.

Joseph narrowed his eyes at his father. "Papa are you sure everything's all right?"

Matthew almost laughed out loud at the lie he was about to tell. He had to do it, he had to lie. He was protecting him. "Of course Joe." He raised his glass, "Everything is absolutely fine."

* * *

><p><em><strong>August 6th 1940<strong>_

_**4:00pm**_

Cora stared at her daughter with a look of complete and utter shock etched upon her face. "Pregnant?" She whispered, "What - but how? I don't understand?"

Her daughter chuckled darkly behind her wall of hands, "I'm sure you understand perfectly well Mama."

"Mary!" Cora reprimanded sternly, "Now isn't the time for flippancy or jokes! Now look at me and calmly explain to me everything."

Mary lifted her head up with great difficulty, trying to compose herself. The whole story poured from her lips before she could stop herself, she told her mother everything. From Rebecca's friendship with Tim, their secret courtship, the end of the courtship, finally culminating in his ultimate betrayal.

Cora didn't interrupt. She just sat quietly in her chair, absorbing her daughter's anguish. The Dowager Countess had lived a long time and had experienced much suffering in her lifetime but my God nothing could compare to the stress her daughters and granddaughters put her through. If they weren't bedding extraneous men they were either eloping with them or becoming pregnant at…

"You said she's four months gone?" Cora's heart began to race erratically as the realisation began to finally violate her mind. Mary nodded, avoiding her mother's horrified stare; knowing the reaction. "So that meant she was still only thirteen years old when she got herself in this way?"

"Yes." Mary whispered. "But it wasn't her fault. She never got herself this way."

Cora stood up roughly. "You stupid girl!" Mary flinched at her mother's tone, "How could you let this happen to your own daughter? You who's usually so perceptive."

Mary shot her mother an icy glare. "How was I to know he was going to climb into her room?" She looked away, haunted by the guilty memory of the night she had found Rebecca's window open and hadn't pressed it further. Oh what kind of a mother was she? But then how could she have known she thought their relationship was over?

"So where is he now then?" Cora asked furiously.

Mary forced her shoulders into a dejected shrug, "From what I know, he's joined up. He'll be off to India any day now."

"So you're telling me that the father of this baby has gone off to war where he's bound to get himself killed?"

Mary nodded, nibbling on her lip in growing anxiety. "It looks that way Mama, yes. Once again – we're the ones left to clean up the mess."

Cora narrowed her eyes at her daughter, "I still find it hard to believe that you didn't even have an inkling that Rebecca was with child?"

Mary's head snapped up. "It's not a conclusion I'd usually consider for my fourteen, unmarried daughter!"

"You must've noticed the signs surely!" Cora retaliated in exasperation, "Having had five yourself!"

"Yes the signs were all there but like I said, I never in a million years thought my daughter would be having a child of her own while she was still one herself!" Mary retorted, tears streaming down her face.

It was just a blessing that the servants had the day off.

Cora collapsed back into her chair. "Is she showing?" She asked suddenly.

Mary struggled to answer. "Her clothes are tight." It was all she could spit out.

"Mary does Matthew know?" Cora asked quietly.

"Yes and he's completely distraught. We're both so worried about this damned war so I suppose when you asked me why I never suspected… I never dreamed we'd have something like this to deal with!" Mary screwed her hands into fists, wishing to pound something.

"So this, Tim Alexander desecrated my granddaughter and then just left?" Cora said, her voice dripping with disdain.

Mary nodded, breathing heavily in her building rage, "Wait till he comes back. I'm going to give it to him good!"

"First you need to concentrate on your own child!" Cora snapped, "Now have you thought about what you're going to do?"

Mary shook her head listlessly. "I don't know, I'm still trying to take it all in Mama. My fourteen year old, unmarried daughter, violated and now pregnant." It was almost as if repeating the words would somehow make everything seem plausible.

"Which is exactly why we need to act fast!" Cora said with fierce determination, "If this gets out Mary, you can kiss your entire social status goodbye! And it won't just be you, Rebecca will be as good as damaged already so no respectable man will want her and her brush will tar your other children! There might be a war on but society still lingers strongly in the background, doors will be slammed in your face from every home in the country and Downton's reputation will be at risk - if you can be clever enough to cover this embarrassing secret up."

"Do you think I haven't thought of all that?" Mary shot out, "All night it's been going round my head! This is like déjà vu all over again! If Granny could see what's become of us now she'd be turning in her grave!"

"So what are you proposing to do about it? You must've had some ideas." Cora pressed with emphaisis.

Mary squirmed uncomfortably, "Well I did have a thought but it just seems too impossible to pull off."

Cora raised her eyebrows in anticipation, "Tell me. We might be thinking the same thing."

Mary swallowed, "Well I was thinking that Rebecca has the baby and Matthew and I raise the child as our own."

Cora breathed an immense sigh of relief, she leaned forward and clasped her daughter's hand, "Oh my dear I was so hoping you'd say that."

"But it is of course impossible to do," Mary replied wearily.

"Why? You are still in family way aren't you?"

"Just about and it's not anyone's business if I am or not." Mary said hotly, "But that's not what I mean. How do we tell people that-?"

"Stop right there!" Cora held her hand up to silence her, "You have to keep this secret well confined within the family."

"How do you mean?"

"Tell only the immediate family. Except for Edith, I don't want another repeat of last time so just to be on the safe side..."

"Fine with me." Mary said bitterly, only too glad to keep this secret from Edith who had disgustingly betrayed her. Even though their relationship was reasonably better now, it was something Mary couldn't quite forgive her for.

"I'll call Sybil and tell her to only tell her family - you tell yours but not Benjamin, he's far too young and he won't be able to understand.

Mary nodded, "Of course. But Mama what will we tell people? Are we supposed to send Rebecca away, I don't know how this works!"

"First of all calm down," Cora ordered, "Then let's think. I suppose we could send her away to stay with Sybil in Ireland-"

"No!" Mary interrupted suddenly, "I can't send my daughter away Mama! None of this is her fault. She shouldn't have to leave her home."

Cora caressed her daughter's cheek, "I'm not asking you to send her away. Darling, go home and talk it over with Matthew and get him on board. Then go and tell Rebecca and the others, sit down with Georgina, explain it to her and then tell Joe and Edward. You need to get them into the fold as quickly as possible so we can get things moving."

Mary just gaped at her. "But Mama where will we send Rebecca?"

Cora's eyes clouded over and she dropped her voice to a low hush. "Mary my dear, tell me again just how many servants you have left?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>10:30pm<strong>_

Matthew flipped back into his padded chair, longing to tip another glass of brandy down his throat but he feared that once he started he couldn't stop and it wouldn't be very long before he fell into a drunken stupor. He couldn't afford that right now. His family needed him to be strong. But every time he thought about Rebecca and her – situation, his stomach felt like it was being pummelled repeatedly by an invisible fist. He felt like he was suffocating and he couldn't come up for air. Not that he wanted to. Right now he felt it was better if he just let go.

At dinner, no one had said a word. Both his boys looked as though they had the weight of the world on their shoulders but when he tried to engage them into conversation, they just excused themselves and went to bed early.

The door creaked open slowly. Mary slipped into the study and quietly walked over to her husband , slipping her hands around his neck and kissing his forehead. It was the first time they had been alone since his angry rant in their bedroom the previous night.

"How are you feeling?" She whispered.

Matthew released a sarcastic laugh. "I've had better days." He pulled away from her and stood up, beginning to pace around the study with a look of antipathy gleaming in his eyes. Mary watched him for what seemed like hours but it could've been minutes, she didn't know. Time just seemed to snail on.

"Fourteen." Matthew spat, "How could I let this happen? How could I let this go on under my own roof and not even know about it?"

"It's not your fault Matthew," Mary responded desperately, "He took advantage of her!"

"That's not the point!" Matthew snapped, "I'm her father, I'm supposed to protect her!"

"We couldn't have anticipated something like this!"

Matthew sputtered, "Didn't – didn't you think something was going on with her?"

Mary gaped at him. "What is wrong with everybody? Why does this all fall down on me?"

"Well you're the one who said she was fine!" Matthew railed back.

Mary threw her hands up to stop him, "Let's not start hurling blame towards one another because it's not going to help."

"But I was actually prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt! I never chased him away, I politely asked him to leave!" Matthew countered, finally allowing his fist to slam into his desk. "Now we're the ones that are left to clean up his mess!"

Mary stood up and wiped the stray tears from her husband's cheeks, forcing him to look at her directly in the eyes. "This can all be sorted."

Matthew's face melted into scepticism, "How?" He asked in a voice filled with defeat. "How can this possibly be sorted Mary?"

"The only alternative we have is to keep the baby and raise it as our own." Mary said steadily.

"What?" Matthew whispered in shock, "Have you gone quite mad?"

Mary blanched. "I – I thought you'd be happy with the solution."

"Happy!" Matthew repeated with a disdainful laugh, "Why should I be happy with that? We can't raise a baby in the middle of a war!"

"What other option do we have?" Mary bit back, "Other then send our daughter away to a Convent for unwed mothers and have our grandchild given away to strangers!"

Matthew effectively lapsed into silence as he comprehended her words.

"Now Mama and I were talking -"

"Oh of course I should have guessed!" Matthew muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mary countered back angrily.

"Well it sounds like you and your mother has already sorted everything out between you two and I'm supposed to just hop along with it!"

Mary's eyes closed in controlled patience, "Matthew please listen to me. Now, I am going to fake a pregnancy and tell only Sybil and her family, Dr Green and the children. Apart from Benjamin, he will think that this child is his brother or sister."

"So we're lying to him?" Matthew said with derision, "Wonderful. So what's Rebecca going to do? I don't want my daughter sent away in her - condition."

"Neither do I!" Mary replied quickly, "So we'll keep her here. Now the house only has Cutler, Mrs Plum, Mrs Lockwood and Sally. That's it. So we'll stage a departure for their benefit, we can say that Rebecca's going to stay with Sybil for a while."

"Stage a departure?" Matthew repeated wearily, "This isn't some spy novel you know?"

"I know." Mary said as tolerantly as she could, "We'll send her to my Mama's house and then bring her back at night."

"And put her where exactly?" Matthew asked in irritation. "The attic? The stables?"

Mary chewed on her lip, reaching into her pocket and extracting a small, rusty key which she held on her open palm.

"What's that?" Matthew asked, eyeing the key with suspicion.

"It's a key." Mary replied simply.

"Yes I know it's a key Mary," Matthew responded dryly, "But a key to what exactly?"

"The chauffeur's cottage. It's completely empty now. It's got everything she needs, a bathroom, kitchen. We can slip her food and anything she needs." Mary sighed, "She won't want for anything."

"So you're just planning to lock her up in the old cottage?" Matthew rasped in disbelief, "Keep her away from everyone?"

"We can still visit her." Mary said softly, "After the baby's born then she can be around as many people as she wants."

"What if Tim comes back?" Matthew asked through clenched teeth, voicing both their fears.

Mary's heartbeat quickened involuntarily but then she remembered that he had gone and if the boy had any sense he wouldn't dare come back. "He doesn't know anything." It was all she could say.

"But then what about the birth?" Matthew added hastily, "What if there are complications? A girl her age…? You almost died giving birth to Georgina, a girl of fourteen -"

"Dr Green has delivered many babies before," Mary interrupted smoothly, "We also have your mother, I'm sure she won't let the birth go without a hitch. Rebecca's healthy enough. Girls her age have been having children for millennia."

"That was then, this is the forties Mary!" Matthew retorted emphatically. "It's not so conventional anymore!"

"Thank you, now you see why we have to carry out this plan! Not only to protect Rebecca then at least ourselves and our other children!" Mary said impatiently. When Matthew didn't respond Mary added tersely, "Put it this way Matthew. Do you want your grandchild to be called a bastard?"

Matthew flinched as though he'd been slapped. Very slowly he shook his head. "No." He whispered, "Of course I don't."

"Well then." Mary said evenly, "It's inevitable what must be done isn't it?"

Matthew sank into his chair, searching for a loophole before he agreed wholeheartedly to this plan. "But Mary, do you think we're young enough to raise a baby again? Do you think people will believe the hoax?"

"Of course," Mary answered dismissively, "Lots of women I know have had children at my age and besides, we look much younger than we are anyway."

"But what about Rebecca?" Matthew asked quietly, "Do you really think it's fair to keep her child so close yet so far?"

Mary raised her brow, "Do you think it's fair to burden her with it at her age? In her position? She's too young to get married and like you said, we're in the middle of a war so we can't find her anyone suitable. This is the only alternative we have if we want to protect her; we take the child and pass it off as our own while Rebecca waits it out here. Of course we could always send her away and adopt the child out, which would be the easy thing to do. But deep down, I don't want that I know you don't either Matthew."

When Matthew didn't reply she knelt before him and clasped her hand in his. "Darling this is isn't what I wanted for Rebecca's future. But we have to work together to help her. Don't you see that by doing this we're protecting her? If anyone finds out about this then we will all be ruined and our family and this house will fall into a bottomless pit of disgrace. When it comes to the aristocracy we clean up our own mess."

"I've gathered that." Matthew said in a hollow voice.

"So you agree?" Mary asked gently, her eyes searching his face. "This is for the best, for Rebecca and for the family?"

Matthew flicked his icy blue eyes towards her and very slowly, he nodded. Mary released a long awaited sigh before dropping her head in relief and gratitude.

"Thank you," She breathed, giving his hand a tight squeeze. "Now we just need to tell Rebecca."

* * *

><p>Rebecca lay curled up on her bed, her hands clasped together on her pillow and kept well away from her stomach. She felt completely drained of all emotion, physically and mentally, her cheeks stained dry with the trails of endless tears. Now she was all cried out.<p>

She heard her parents quickening footsteps from outside her room. For a brief moment, she contemplated feigning sleep but then she knew she'd have to face them again sooner or later. And she knew what was to become of her.

It was the only solution for a girl in her position.

As the Earl of Grantham's daughter and a respected member of the nobility, she knew what a pregnancy out of wedlock from a girl her age could do to her family's reputation, even if they were amidst a war. Oh the scandal would be juicier than the most succulent of oranges.

No one could ever know the truth or else her life would be over. Marriage, children – well, children she wanted anyway. Of course she had always dreamed of being a mother, what girl hasn't paraded her dolls around in early preparation? She just didn't realise how early it would be for her. She didn't want a baby at fourteen with no husband and no home! She felt sick. There was something growing inside her but it didn't feel like a baby. It was changing her, making her sick and putting on weight, forcing everyone to look at her with shame and sadness.

Oh God, what were her parents plans for her? She knew what must be done and she was terrified. She had heard so many horror stories from her Granny about girls in her situation and what they did. Oh God would it hurt? Could she die? Wonderful. Hadn't this thing ruined her life enough? Now it would probably kill her too?

Rebecca scrunched up her face into her pillow, wishing with all her heart that she had never laid eyes on Tim. Then everything would be all right.

But she had laid eyes on him. And everything was far from all right.

The door opened silently. Her parents padded into the room without so much as a word. Rebecca glanced hopefully at them, yearning to see some form of love or confidence shimmering behind their eyes but – all she could see was stress. And as for her father, he just slumped back in the rocking chair near the window and stared out of it, refusing to even look at her.

Rebecca felt the bed sink with a small creak as her mother sat near her feet. Not her side. Her feet.

"Sit up darling." Mary commanded in a soft tone. Rebecca obeyed immediately, staring at her mother with an intense desperation. Mary could feel her heart tear at the terrified look in her daughter's eyes but she forced herself to remain guarded.

"Your father and I have been talking about what to do with you." She started off in a gentle voice, "And there is one conclusion we keep coming back to."

Rebecca clenched her jaw to stop the ready flow of tears. She nodded, "I know Mama. You're going to take me somewhere to get rid of it aren't you?"

Mary's eyes widened, she shot a panicked glance at Matthew who had sucked in a sharp breath and closed his eyes in shame.

"No!" Mary said firmly, "That's not even an option."

"Oh." Rebecca's felt a spark of hope ignite inside her heart, feeling a small amount of weight eased off her shoulders. So they weren't going to force her to get rid of it. But then that meant..."You're going to send me away?" Before her mother could reply the courage forced the next words out of her mouth, "I'll stay at home. I won't let anyone see me," She addressed her father directly, "Papa, I'll keep myself well hidden, I'll even hide in the attic if you want me to!"

Matthew twitched his head in her direction, his face almost melting at her words but he didn't say anything.

Mary placed a hand on her daughter's knee to calm her down, saying with resolution, "No Rebecca we're not going to send you away. As much as we can force ourselves to do it, we can't. There's always the fact that this baby is our grandchild. Therefore, your father and I have decided it would be best –for everyone if we were to raise this baby as our own."

Rebecca stared at her mother, completely taken aback. She looked to her father to witness his reaction but he just stiffened in the chair and still refused to even throw a glance her way.

"You're going to take this baby and raise it as your own?" Rebecca echoed, still in a daze. "You and Papa? So it will be like my brother or sister?"

"Yes." Mary answered curtly.

"But – but I thought that you…" Rebecca's eyes swelled with tears, whether it be from relief, disappointment or confusion, she just couldn't tell, "I thought you were either going to get rid of it or give it away to avoid shame on the family."

Mary shook her head and when she spoke, Rebecca actually heard some of that fierce protectiveness sewn into her mother's voice, the tone that instantly made her feel safe. "I told you that's not an option."

"All right." Rebecca fell back against the pillows and at last she allowed herself to regain her breath. "So what's to become of me now?"

Mary explained the whole plan to her. That she'd be moving into the cottage near the house until she'd had the baby. Rebecca grew more and more nervous, shuffling and fidgeting, trying to understand it.

"So it's just going to be me in that house?" Rebecca asked thinly.

"You and the baby." Mary responded with a sad smile.

Rebecca looked down at her hands, saying in a small voice, "Of course. Sorry, I forgot."

Matthew drew another sharp intake of breath. His wife and daughter acknowledged him but he didn't look their way.

Still in a panic, Rebecca blurted, "Who's going to deliver the thing?"

Mary raised her brow, "The thing?"

"The baby?"

"Dr Green will of course." Mary replied shortly. "Don't worry, he's ethically obliged to be silent."

Overwhelmed with the tidal wave of emotions that had engulfed her in the past twenty-four hours, Rebecca longingly reached out her hand for Mary to take. Mary grabbed her hand and pressed it to her cheek, closing her eyes to bask in the moment. Her little girl, all grown up.

"Get some rest." She said in a shielded voice. "We have a lot to get through. Maybe we should let the situation settle first before we tell the others."

There was a loud creak as Matthew rose from the rocking chair, absently fiddling with his tie, his cuffs, his jacket, doing anything that avoided looking at her.

"Papa?" Rebecca whispered, a morsel of hope creeping into her voice, "Say something to me please."

Matthew paused with his hand clasped around the cool doorknob, his heart clenching with despair. He turned towards his daughter but his eyes were cast firmly on the floor. He jabbed his thumb towards a vase on the windowsill which held a bunch of withering violets. "Make sure you water those. Otherwise they'll die." And then he quickly fled the room, closing the door behind him.

"He hates me." Rebecca stated blandly, feeling incredibly distraught. "He blames me for all this."

"Oh no darling he doesn't." Mary said quickly, "Your Papa's just angry and upset that's all. He doesn't hate you and he most definitely doesn't blame you."

"But he won't even look at me Mama!" Rebecca moaned through her tears, "Why won't he look at me?"

"Darling your father loves you very much! When he looks at you he probably just feels guilty that's all." Mary wiped her daughter's tears away with her palms, "But it isn't your fault. Now stop crying and go to sleep." She pressed a loving kiss to Rebecca's forehead and swiftly fled the room.

Now alone again, Rebecca pressed the corner of her duvet into her mouth and released a long (yet muffled) scream. Feeling reasonably better, she shimmied into bed and tried to obey her mother's orders.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	33. Every Family Have Their Secrets

**Author's Note:**Hey, so sorry for the delay in updating but I've got Uni and it's like, urgh! But anyway this chapter deals with Mary/Matthew issues, there's a bit of Sybil in there as well (more on that later I promise) and Joseph as well.

So enjoy and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 33 – Every Family Have Their Secrets<strong>

_**August 10th 1940**_

"No Mary! I said we're not telling them today and that's final!" Matthew snapped as he and his wife trudged down to dinner.

"But why not?" Mary hissed into his ear, "You keep giving me these ridiculous runaround excuses whenever I broach the subject! Matthew, Rebecca's getting bigger and soon she'll be noticeable!" She shut up as Cutler swiftly passed them, pausing to give them a brief nod. "We have to tell them now so we can move her out of here as soon as possible!" She continued with desperation. "I don't understand you with this hesitancy!"

"Mary I'm agreeing to this plan." Matthew whispered hoarsely, "All I ask of you is that you agree to this one thing for me. Please." He didn't wait for her to reply, just stalked off into the dining room.

"What was all that about?" Edward asked, sauntering down the stairs and eyeing his mother with that scrutinizing gaze.

Mary shook her head with a heavy sigh. "Nothing."

"Listen Mama, before we go in there's something I need to ask you?" Edward shuffled awkwardly, biting his lip and fidgeting, trying to find the right words to say.

"Spit it out Edward," Mary said impatiently.

"Can I have two hundred pounds?" Edward asked, trying to keep his voice casual yet failing miserably.

Mary's face morphed into that of impatience to incredulity, "Two hundred pounds? What on earth for?"

Edward shrugged, "Just things."

"What sort of things?" Mary asked suspiciously, "What are you up to?"

"Just a little investment before I go off to my impending doom." Edward joked. "I would use my own money but thanks to Grandpa I have no access to it until I'm twenty-one. But – who knows if I'd even make it to that age? Just think, all that money going to waste."

Mary's lips thinned in fury, as it always did whenever Edward jested about war. "Well, talk you your father about it. He's the trust holder for all of you."

Edward groaned, "He'll never let me have it!"

Mary waved him aside, "Edward please, I really don't have time to talk about this now." She flustered off to the dining room, leaving her bewildered son to stare after her.

* * *

><p>The cool Summer evening provided the perfect excuse for Mary to take a walk. She didn't have a specific location in mind but she needed to get some air and most importantly, talk to someone. So it didn't really come as much of a surprise that she found her feet wandering towards St. Michael's church. That church definitely held an inundation of memories for her. Weddings, Christenings, Funerals and Sunday services which they endured, finding out about more families heartache.<p>

This war.

If this war didn't happen, would Rebecca have been saved? She quietly slipped inside and shut the door behind her. The lights were all off save for the small flickering candles that danced in the swift breeze. Mary took off her hat and stalked down the aisle towards the front pew and sat down with her hands clasped tightly under her chin. She didn't even know what she was supposed to be praying for. Everything seemed too complicated right now.

"Lady Grantham?"

Mary's eyes snapped open. She turned in alarm to see Reverend Stevens beaming down at her in surprise. "Reverend Stevens. Sorry, I didn't - I didn't know you were here."

"I'm the church mouse." He said with a small chuckle. He eyed the space next to Mary pointedly.

"Please sit down." Mary said quickly, scooting over to make room.

"So what brings you here at this time?" Reverend Stevens asked softly, sliding towards her.

Mary slid up further before replying in an even voice, "I'm in desperate need of some answers Father. Hard as it is for a Lady to say. But it's true."

"Whether you're a Lady or a Pauper we're all the same in God's eyes." Reverend Stevens said soothingly, "There's nothing wrong in asking for his help."

"Oh I'm not asking for his help." Mary said coolly. "I know the big question on everyone's lips is 'why did God lead us into a war?' But for me it's – how. How could he have led us into this war and still bring trouble on our hands."

"I know it must be hard for you to watch not one but two of your sons go off." Reverend Stevens said with a sigh, "And the Battle of Britain is taking a lot out of our airmen."

"Precisely." Mary replied in an icy voice, "We've only just got Joe back and already I feel as if he's been snatched away again! And to add to the stress, I've just found out that -" She bit her lip. No, she couldn't tell Reverend Stevens. Could she?

Reverend Stevens leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a low and concerned whisper. "What have you found out Lady Mary?"

* * *

><p><strong><em>August 11th 1940<em>**

Joseph swerved his Spitfire into a perfect loop; flipping the plane onto its back and dipping it down before pulling it up charmingly. Oh yes, he still had it in him! The feeling was magnificent! The thrill and overwhelming emotion he felt while he climbed into his seat of the Spit, listening to those mighty engines roar…ah, finally, he was back where he belonged! Joseph pulled the gears into position, ready for landing and unable to suppress a smirk as he glided gracefully on the smooth lawn in front of the Air Marshals who stood by with their mouths agape.

"Well, well Flight Lieutenant Crawley I stand corrected," Marshal King said in amusement as Joseph lifted the glass hood up and hopped out of the Spitfire with a wide grin. "You clearly haven't forgotten anything."

"Nope it's still all there Air Marshal King." Joseph tucked his helmet under his arm and proceeded to tug his gloves off, "Thank you for letting me use a Spit."

"It was one of our old ones." Air Chief Marshal Lennox said dryly. "We could hardly put you in a new Spitfire Flight Lieutenant Crawley, not now that your shoulder has only just healed."

"How did you find it?" King asked quickly, sidling a glance at Lennox.

Joseph just smiled like an excited child, "It was wonderful!" He patted the side of his Spitfire fondly, "It's exactly as I remember!"

"Well we don't want you to put too much of a strain on your arm, not now that you're almost back on top form." King said with kindness laced into his voice.

"I don't mind." Joseph said hastily, rotating his shoulder into a nearly perfect circle. "I mean it twinges a bit but other than that it's fine."

"Still, better not take any risks." Lennox said with a shrewd smile, "The last thing we want is the Earl of Grantham on our case."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Joseph said coldly.

Lennox just shrugged. "What I said it meant Flight Lieutenant." He proceeded to walk away, "After all, I'm only repeating what you told us."

Joseph jerked his head away, his face burning with humiliation. Air Marshal King opened his mouth to say something apologetic to the young Pilot but he barely had time to say anything. At that moment a deafening siren blared into the field, sending shockwaves through the entire department.

"What's going on?" Joseph asked in a panic, watching a herd of Pilots, most of them his friends, swarming towards their Spitfires and practically jumping into them.

"An emergency!" King replied with worry.

Joseph glanced at his watch. "Now?"

"More and more now I'm afraid!" King said, speaking incredibly fast while he assessed the situation, "The irritating thing is that most of these Pilots are on standby and some of them are so tired it's such a risk putting them back out there -"

"So let me go!" The words of volition tumbled from Joseph's mouth before he could stop them.

King stared at him with a mixture of incredulity and hope. "I beg your pardon Flight Lieutenant Crawley?"

Joseph watched the other Pilots revving up their engines and strapping into their seats. He didn't understand why he said it, he didn't want to have said it but he did and now he couldn't stop. "Let me go too. I'm very well rested and I know what to do."

King hesitated for only a split second before replying, "Fine, put your helmet on Crawley you're going into battle."

* * *

><p>"I wonder how Joe's getting on. How long do you think these air battles are going to continue for?" Georgina asked her father while he escorted her to the police station.<p>

"I'm not sure." Matthew answered absently, his mind clearly swimming with all sorts of thoughts and worries. It was a pleasant Summer's day yet it did nothing for his mood. "Why? Are you worried about anyone in particular?"

A wry smile played around her lips. "I'm worried about Joe going back if you must know; it's been too soon after Dunkirk."

Matthew swallowed over the aching lump wedged in his throat. "It has."

"And I suppose I am worried about Dominic as well. How can I not be?" She sighed impatiently, "I don't know Papa, I've been thinking I should volunteer my services for the RAF. What do you think?"

Matthew stopped abruptly and turned to his daughter in disbelief. She just stared back at him with innocent eyes. "Has Dominic said something to you?" He asked suspiciously. "You were all for spending time at the Downton Police Station? We're actually becoming used to you running around in that uniform."

"It wasn't going to be a permanent post was it Papa?" Georgina said gently, "DCI Brownlow and I clash far too much. Besides, Dominic said they're always in need of plotters in the RAF."

Matthew sighed wearily, shaking his head and continuing on his path. "I don't even know what that is." He murmured irritably.

Georgina laughed and continued to chatter on and on. Matthew tried to listen but they were just passing The Grantham Arms pub. Matthew felt his hand curl into a fist at his side. Just knowing what was probably going on inside was enough to make his blood boil. Tim's father would probably be washing glasses and serving drinks to locals, completely oblivious of his son's actions. And what about the boy himself? Would he be in there too? Gambling? Changing the barrels? Laughing as if nothing had happened while his poor daughter was shut up behind closed doors, scared and ruined? Matthew felt a surge of anger and detestation course through his body. If it weren't for Georgina, he would've gone storming into the pub right there and then and drag the boy out by the hair…

"Are you all right Papa?" Georgina asked in concern, breaking into his dark thoughts. She laced her arm through his, "You seem even more distracted than usual these days."

Matthew closed his eyes briefly, wanting so desperately to just end this torture of lying to his children but at the same time, wanting to keep them safe inside the cocoon of blissful ignorance. So he just masked all his despair with a warm smile and repeated the words both he and Mary seemed to be using more frequently now. "It's nothing for you to worry about my darling."

"Lord Grantham! Lady Georgina!"

Matthew and Georgina turned swiftly to see Reverend Stevens hurrying up the pathway behind them, waving enthusiastically.

"Reverend Stevens good morning!" Matthew greeted with a forced smile.

"Good morning!" Georgina smiled.

"I am so glad I caught you!" Reverend Stevens said breathlessly. "Lord Grantham I wanted to express my congratulations!" He seized Matthew's limp hand and shook it. "You must be so very proud!"

Matthew stared at him in polite bewilderment as did Georgina. "Excuse me?" He asked civilly.

Reverend Stevens blanched. "Well, the new baby of course. You must be feeling absolutely thrilled to be a father again!"

All the colour flooded from Matthew's face. He could do nothing except stare at the priest in complete and utter shock. Georgina gaped at both of them in alarm, positive she had misheard. She waited for her father's reaction to confirm it but to her bewilderment he just stood there with his mouth gaping open and shut like a goldfish.

"Papa?" Georgina prompted in unease, her tone clearly indicating that she didn't know a thing, forcing Reverend Stevens to gasp in mortification.

"I'm - I'm so sorry but I thought – from the impression I received from Lady Grantham…" He trailed off, fully aware of Matthew's growing fury. "Right, well if you excuse me I must be at the hospital, there's a young soldier there who – well, I'll see you on Sunday Lord Grantham, Lady Georgina." He couldn't scurry away fast enough.

Matthew tried to swallow his rage in order to calmly explain to his daughter what had just happened, however it was clear she was having none of it.

"I don't believe it - is Mama pregnant?" She asked in a hushed voice smothered with incredulity.

"Just – just let me explain darling!" Matthew sputtered, desperately trying to think his way around this one. "It's quite complicated you see -"

"Complicated?" Georgina echoed loudly, "How can it be complicated? Either she's pregnant or she isn't?"

"Georgina hush!" Matthew scolded sharply, glancing around to check no one had heard.

Georgina flinched in surprise at her father's reaction. She didn't say anymore, just stared at him expectantly, waiting for an answer but all Matthew could do was dither helplessly. How could he just blurt the truth out to her on the street like that?

"Papa!"

Matthew closed his eyes and released a dejected sigh. "Georgina it's Rebecca who's pregnant." His words were such a whisper, Georgina had to strain her ears to catch them. Her eyes widened and her hand slowly covered her mouth in shock.

"Oh my God." She whimpered, "But – but – I don't….?"

"Come on darling," Matthew encircled his arm protectively around his eldest daughter's shoulders and guided her away, "We need to have a talk."

* * *

><p>Rebecca wrapped her cardigan tightly around herself and padded softly into Benjamin's playroom where he sat on the floor, engrossed in building his train set. She knelt down next to him and reached for some of his tracks to help him, feeling a pang of sadness as she watched him mutter to his toy soldiers. Truth be told, she envied him. She envied his youth and his innocence. She envied his ability to just shut out the harsh reality of the world for a little while. But most of all, she envied the fact that he was a boy – and rules didn't apply to him in the same way they did to her.<p>

"What are you thinking about?" Benjamin asked her innocently.

Rebecca tried to smile though her lip was wobbling. "Oh, I was just thinking about you. And how lucky you are Benji." Oh no, the tears were starting again! She was finding it really hard to exercise control over her emotions these days.

"Why are you crying?" Benjamin asked in alarm, scooting to her side and gently patting her arm. "There, there Becky. Don't be sad."

Rebecca pressed her hand to her mouth and tried to swallow the waterworks back. "I'm not sad! I'm not!" She protested, trying to convince her little brother of the lie.

"Then why are you crying?"

"Well, I was just thinking…" She nestled closer to him and whispered, "Benji, how do you feel about having another brother or sister?"

Benjamin's blue eyes widened in surprise before he shrugged. "I don't know. Why?"

Rebecca shook her head. "No reason. I was just asking."

"Hi."

Rebecca and Benjamin both looked up in surprise at the sound of Georgina's voice. She lounged against the doorway, her face trying to twitch into a smile but her eyes were red-rimmed as though she had been crying and her bottom lip was starting to wobble.

Rebecca understood in that instant that she knew. Her sister knew she was pregnant.

"Georgina! Come and play!" Benjamin said happily, holding out some figurines for her to use. "You can be the Flight Commander!"

Georgina politely shook her head, saying in a steady voice, "Not today darling. I need to have a word with Rebecca for a few minutes."

"Oh fine. I'll be the Flight Commander then." Benjamin huffed, turning back to his toys and shrinking back into his own little world.

Rebecca kissed Benjamin's forehead, "I'll be back soon." She climbed to her knees slowly and exited the room, not daring to look at her sister.

Georgina shut the door and grabbed Rebecca's arm, dragging her down the hallway to an isolated area where she knew they couldn't be overheard. Then she turned to face her sister with a tremulous look etched all over her face.

"Rebecca – Papa told me that you're pregnant." It was supposed to be a statement her eyes held a questioning glare.

Rebecca swallowed, her eyes darting to the floor in shame. "I am. Granny confirmed that I'm four months gone." Her hand nervously flew to the string of beads around her neck. "But it's all right. Mama and Papa are going to raise the thing so – I – we won't all be disgraced." She lapsed into the longest silence, leaning against the wall and fidgeting with her necklace before saying quietly, "Which is nice of them I suppose."

"Yes, yes it is." Georgina said warily, unsure of her sister's state of mind at present, "But are you all right darling? Papa told me that – that – that Tim -" Rebecca's head snapped up sharply as Georgina dropped her voice to a low whisper, "That he – forced himself on you?"

Rebecca closed her eyes, to block out the pain of hearing those words out loud. She hardened her gaze and tried to keep her voice as composed as possible. "It's done now Georgina. Let's not talk about it, please. I'm already saddled with the reminder! And will be every day for the rest of my life! I'm giving up everything for this - thing! My life, my reputation, my _home_! You know they're moving me into the chaffeur's cottage?"

"Oh Rebecca," Georgina tried to pat her sister's stomach but she pushed her hand away.

"Please don't do that." Rebecca ordered. She glanced at her stomach and wrapped her cardigan tightly around the growing bump, the bump she was now starting to loathe more than anything. "I can't handle that."

"Rebecca that's your child!" Georgina stated in a hush.

"No it's Mama and Papa's!" Rebecca corrected airily, "That's all there is to say about it." She scurried off down the corridor, eager to escape.

* * *

><p>"So just keep it within the family all right Sybil? We don't need the whole world and his wife knowing about Rebecca's situation." Mary said icily, the phone pressed tightly to her ear. She reclined back on the lush peach sofa, a magazine titled, 'Pregnant During Wartime,' lay open on her lap.<p>

"I can't believe it Mary, what a terrible thing to happen." Sybil said in a soft yet sad voice. "As if you didn't have enough to deal with!"

"Don't get me started on all that!" Mary said stiffly, "Joseph's gone back to the RAF for re-sits and we've only heard from him once to say that he's arrived safely."

"And he hasn't called back since?"

"No." Mary rolled her eyes, "But you know how Pilots are. He'd have spent most of his time and our money drinking all night with his pals at some bar. I'm sure he'll call in the morning once his sore head clears up."

"They wouldn't have sent him off would they?" Sybil asked in trepidation.

"Of course not!" Mary snapped, "Joseph said it was just a re-sit. That's all."

Sybil fell silent for a few seconds, when she spoke, she sounded so broken. "Mary – have you heard anything from Tommy? You know, since you last saw him?"

Mary's heart pinched at the aching behind her little sister's voice. She knew only too well the feeling of being separated from your son and not knowing a damned thing. "Oh Sybil darling you know you would've been the first person to know if any of us had heard anything."

Sybil sniffed, "Of course I'm sorry." She said thickly, "I – I suppose I just find it so hard. What with him being in London and all the stories about the Capital being bombed every night… I'm going mad here Mary."

"So call him Sybil," Mary suggested with desperation, "What could've been so bad that Tom would throw his own son out of the house?"

"Oh Mary you don't even know the half of it," Sybil sighed, "Tom's so angry with Tommy right now. He feels as if he's betrayed him."

"Betrayed him? How?"

"I can't talk about it over the phone Mary." Sybil hissed.

"Sybil please! Tommy's your son too and I think he might be in trouble." Mary added in a frantic whisper. "It was too late for me to help Rebecca…" She swallowed back her tears, "But it might not be too late to save Tommy from whatever mess he's in."

"Well, look Mary – I was thinking…."

Matthew stormed into the drawing room, his face screaming anger. "Mary I have to talk to you." He breathed in a controlled voice.

'It's Sybil,' Mary mouthed with emphasis. "Sorry darling, I got distracted what were you saying?"

"I was saying that I could send Siobhan over to you and then we cou -" Sybil stopped in mid-sentence.

"Sybil?"

"Tom!" Sybil said in surprise, "What are you doing home early?" Mary heard Tom mumbling something in the distance and Sybil reply, "Just Mary. – Mary. – Joe's gone back to the RAF. - No, he's not fighting, just re-tests. – Yes. - Well, she told me something important. – I'll tell you later. - No, no it's not about Tommy. - It isn't Tom. - It isn't! - Oh, I promise you it isn't! - Of course I'd tell you but you're the one who – Tom, don't say that, please, I know you don't mean that."

Mary heard Tom's voice grow louder and caught words such as, 'traitor,' 'disgusted,' and 'that boy is a disappointment.'

"Mary I have to go." Sybil said in a dull voice, "I'll call back later."

"Sybil wait -" The phone cut off. Mary released a groan of annoyance and slammed the phone down. She looked up at her husband who was leaning against the fireplace with his forehead resting on his palm. "What's wrong?" She asked in trepidation, "Have you heard something from Joe?"

"Not Joe, no." Matthew replied evenly. He glimpsed at her, "But I did have a little chat with Reverend Stevens."

Mary's face fell in realisation. "Oh." She chewed her lip guiltily, "You found out about that?"

Matthew nodded with a grimace and started to pace around the room in agitation, "Oh yes. Yes, yes he came up to me in the middle of the street, when I was with Georgina, who - by the way – knows everything now."

Mary heaved an exasperated sigh and threw the magazine aside. "I didn't want her to find out like that. How is she?"

"How do you think? Mary what did you think you were doing?" Matthew asked despairingly.

"I didn't tell him the truth!" Mary protested, "I told him I was pregnant." She chuckled bitterly, "So, essentially you could say I lied to a priest, in a church."

"But why did you need to say anything at all!" Matthew said pointedly.

"Because I need to talk to someone!"

"All right so talk to me!" Matthew said quickly, steering around the coffee table to sit next to her. "I'm your husband aren't I?"

"I know darling, and I try to, but whenever I do you either shut me down or tune me out because it's like you don't want to face the fact that this is happening!" Mary said with vexation. Matthew's lips parted but didn't try to argue back. He knew she was right. "Matthew we can't afford to turn a blind eye right now. Just because there's a war on, doesn't mean – bad things don't happen."

"Is that something you came out with or Father Stevens?" Matthew asked, trying to keep the derision out of his voice.

Mary gave him a sad smirk, "That was all me." She shifted closer to him and rubbed his arm tenderly, "I know this couldn't have happened at a worse time."

Matthew chortled darkly, "You can say that again!"

"But," Mary pressed, "It's happened – and we can't ignore it."

"I just don't like the idea of putting Rebecca through this," Matthew said in a heavy voice, "It's not fair to put her in a position where she can only be around her child as a sister, nothing more, nothing less."

"Better than not being able to see it at all." Mary said quietly. Matthew looked at her for the longest time before finally nodding.

* * *

><p><em><strong>August 18th 1940<strong>_

Joseph Crawley stepped off the train, looking incredibly smart in his crisp navy blue RAF uniform, yet his eyes were completely bloodshot due to lack of sleep and supported with dark circles under them. A guilty look started to seep about his face as he sauntered towards his waiting father.

"Joe." Matthew clapped a firm hand on his shoulder in greeting, his eyes closing in sheer relief of finally being able see his son. "Why didn't you call? How many tests could they have put you through in a week?"

"Oh – well, there was a lot to do." It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the truth either, Joseph thought while shuffling his feet, feeling uncomfortable under his father's penetrating stare.

"You look very tired." Matthew commented suspiciously, drinking in his son's drained appearance.

Joseph swallowed. "Well – that's because I haven't had much sleep. Well, hardly any sleep actually but – can we talk about it in the car please." He glanced around cautiously, "I don't want to cause a scene."

He chanced a glance at Matthew who was eyeing his son, a look of understanding and calm fury creeping upon his face. Now Joseph very rarely saw his father angry but he knew that when he was, it took a long time for him to cool down. That's why he darted out of Matthew's blazing gaze and hurried towards their car before his father exploded.

They had barely pulled away from the station when Matthew set off on him. "You've been in battle haven't you?"

Joseph sighed, mentally bracing himself for the lashing now. "Yes I have."

"I knew it!" Matthew said through gritted teeth. He punched the steering wheel in frustration, "I knew this would happen from the minute they showed up at the house!"

"Of course it would _happen_!" Joseph said with aggravation, "We're fighting to keep Britain safe, it's been _happening_ all Summer! What do you think I was re-training for? Fun? You know what I'm doing!"

"I know you said you were only going up for re-sits!" Matthew said angrily, "And then you disappear for a week! Do you have any idea what that's like Joe? Or do you enjoy torturing us?"

"Oh don't be so ridiculous Papa!" Joseph snapped, "Believe it or not I wasn't thinking about myself, for once in my life, I wasn't. They need me -"

"You don't owe them anything." Matthew said fiercely.

"No, I know that." Joseph rubbed his weary eyes, "But it turns out that I haven't forgotten any of my training and what happened was, there was an emergency up in London - again. I just had to go out there Papa, it's getting worse and worse." He flung his father an indignant look, "And before you ask, yes I volunteered to go and I'd do it again!"

"So you're officially back in the RAF now?" Matthew asked, trying to mask the underlying worry peeping out of his voice.

"I am." Joseph answered simply. "Dropping bombs on the Luftwaffe and dodging theirs."

Matthew tensed his jaw, the images of Joseph's plane getting shot down or blown up were swirling more vividly in his mind now. "Don't you think it's a bit much to be thrust into another battle so soon after Dunkirk?" The question spilled from his lips before he could stop it, "I thought you need all your body parts in perfect working order? Your shoulder could be your downfall in this one."

"My shoulder is just fine and I can still fly with it! It hasn't let me down yet has it? I'm not a cripple Papa." Joseph said in a bland voice laced with irritation. Matthew's heartbeat quickened, he sidled a glance at his son who was staring blearily out of the window.

"No you're not." Matthew muttered, eyes focusing solely on the road.

"How did you find out anyway?" Joseph asked absently, loosening his tie.

"Battle fatigue." Matthew shot back, throwing him a fierce look, "I'm the father of a Pilot, you think I didn't read up on it? I knew it from the second you stepped off the train! Not to mention the fact that you've been gone almost a week and didn't bother picking up the phone to let us know what you were doing!"

Joseph rolled his drowsy eyes, "Papa please can we talk about this later?" He murmured sleepily, "The only reason I'm even here is because they sent me home to get some sleep and then I have to go back. So save me the speech or lecture or whatever it is you have planned until after I've had a decent rest. Then I'll have enough energy to argue with you." He slumped against the side of the car, his head lolling against the window and his eyes closed briefly as he drifted off into a comfortable slumber. Matthew shot him an incredulous look, releasing a rattling breath of anger.

"Just to add to all your troubles Joe, while you were away, your fourteen year old sister was taken advantage of, became pregnant and your mother and I are raising the child as our own." Matthew mumbled. He glimpsed his sleeping son whom he knew hadn't heard a word. Matthew shook his head. How on earth was he going to get through this?

* * *

><p><em><strong>August 19th 1940<strong>_

Joseph and Edward Crawley gaped open mouthed at their parents. The news of their little sister's pregnancy had driven all thoughts of war cleanly out of their minds. Joseph's legs collapsed beneath him and he clutched onto the library fireplace for support. Ten painful seconds passed and neither of them said a word. Joseph vaguely felt his father press a cold glass tumbler of something in his hand but he was confused more than anything else. He didn't even know Rebecca was courting anyone let alone this. Then Edward found the voice to ask the question no one dared approach in front of Matthew.

"Are we going to get him?" He breathed, his voice littered with fury.

"Who?" Georgina asked absently.

"What do you mean who?" Edward shot out, "Who do you think?"

"I could drop a bomb on him if you like." Joseph said blandly, tipping scotch down his throat in one gulp. "No one would ever know."

"Perhaps we could shoot him?" Edward suggested coolly, "Mistake him for being a wild animal or something. Or just shoot him."

"Look, boys as much as your theories appeal to me, there's nothing we can do." Matthew said, not bothering to hide the disgust embedded in his tone, "Your mother feels that to do so will be a great risk to the plan."

"Sod the plan!" Edward growled.

"Edward!" Mary reprimanded but Edward just brushed her off.

"No, I'm sorry Mama but we can't allow that scumbag to do this to our family!"

"Don't you see you idiots," Georgina said in a quiet yet strong voice, "It's already been done. Beating Tim up or threatening him won't change the fact that it's happened. We have to be there for Rebecca now, it's the only thing we can do. We have to make her see that it's not her fault and we're on her side no matter what."

"Didn't you lot see anything?" Edward asked in disbelief, glaring at his parents.

"No, we thought it was over between them!" Mary said pointedly.

Edward glared at her, "Well didn't you know Rebecca was - in that way?"

"No!" Mary said icily.

"What were you doing?" Edward crossed his arms and started to pace around the room in the same manner as his father, "Have you all been walking around with your eyes shut?"

"I know she was acting odd but we thought it was because she was upset over Tim and stressed over Joe, we all were!" Mary replied defiantly, "It's been a tough couple of months."

"Didn't anyone keep an eye on this Tim chap?" Joseph asked, still very much in a daze.

"Your father had chased him away!" Mary answered, her palms open with emphasis.

"Oh yes and what a brilliant job that did." Edward said in a voice smothered with sarcasm. Matthew looked away in a huff. Edward turned his burning glare towards him, "It certainly shows how much folk around here respect you!"

"Edward that's out of line!" Joseph thundered, "Apologise to Papa now!"

"Leave him Joe, he's just upset." Matthew said in a surprisingly calm voice. "He's received a shock, you all have."

"Which brings me back to - didn't you suspect he might've tried something?" Edward pressed, his eyes firmly on his father. "You know, when you sent him packing?"

"No I didn't." Matthew said in a hoarse voice, finally being able to voice some of the frustrations that had been haunting him for weeks now. He hitched up his trousers and sat down, "He was sitting right here and he seemed to be an ordinary young man. Completely besotted but not obsessed. I never received the impression that he was capable of doing something like that to our sweet, lovely Rebecca."

Edward glared at the floor, guilt churning in the back of his mind.

"No, nor I." Mary said slowly, "I saw him once or twice and I thought him decent enough but nothing like…" She rubbed her hand over her forehead in dejection. "It's been a long night. Perhaps we should all go to bed. I'm glad we told you tonight because we need to move Rebecca out soon, before she starts showing properly."

"Right." Joseph choked absently, "I have to go too. I need to be back at the Air Force base tomorrow afternoon so…yes."

"Will you be coming back home?" Mary asked innocently.

Joseph just gave her a look. "You know I won't be Mama. Not right away anyway."

Mary nodded rigidly. She admired him very much in his RAF uniform and thought that he fitted it much better than his soldier's kit but now she realized that it wasn't just for show. He could be shot down or blown to pieces any time now.

"Then you should get some sleep so that you're – ready for tomorrow." Mary said as cheerfully as she could, pressing a cool kiss to her son's cheek.

"Are we all agreed?" Matthew said suddenly, forcing them to all stop and stare at him, "Are we all agreed that we keep this secret and take it with us to the grave?"

Edward shrugged, glancing at Joseph, "That may be sooner than you think for some of us." Joseph rolled his eyes.

"This isn't a joke!" Matthew hissed, "Our whole reputation is at stake."

Edward cocked his head to the side, his cheek twitching in amusement or anger, which, it was hard to tell. "Well, every family have their secrets don't they?" He said in a very measured voice.

"Yes they do." Mary whispered firmly.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	34. The Battle Begins

**Author's Note:**Hey, so sorry for the delay but Uni's giving me stress and this chapter took a long time to get right! Well - Edward's going away and Rebecca's not really in this chapter - um, at all because she's sort of locked up and some readers didn't really want to see her but we'll get back to later lol. Anyway, the battle of britain is at it's worst and Joseph is in the middle of it all!

So read it and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 34 – The Battle Begins<span>**

_**September 2nd 1935**_

_"Now have you got everything?" Mary asked, absently adjusting her eleven year old son's cap._

_Edward just shrugged, "I suppose so." He cast his eyes towards his newly polished shoes and deliberately started to scuff them, much to his mother's chagrin._

_"Edward what's wrong my darling?" Cora asked with concern, crouching down next to him. "You've been wanting to go to Eton ever since Joe started. Is everything all right?"_

_"He's probably just nervous Cora." Robert interjected as he was wheeled outside, eager to see his grandsons off. His recent stroke still wore heavily on the minds of his family but he brushed it off today as he smiled at Edward and reached out a hand, "Don't worry about it Ed. You'll love it there. I did."_

_Edward just stared glumly at him in response. Robert's smile cracked and he just patted his hand lightly._

_"Right then," Mary said cheerily, keen to break the awkward atmosphere, "Is everybody ready?"_

_"We are," Matthew said with forced enthusiasm, emerging from around the car with Joseph and the chauffeur. "All their cases have been loaded and they're ready to leave. Again." He avoided all glances with his wife. He'd never approve of sending his sons away to boarding school but it was one of those things he had to oblige as the future Earl._

_"Can you tell Benji I said bye? He was having a nap and I didn't want to wake him." Edward said with a hint of sadness sewn into his voice._

_"Tell him yourself, he's just woken up." Isobel said quickly, carefully stepping out of the house with a red-faced and sleepy Benjamin sat comfortably in the crook of her arm, his thumb shoved firmly in his mouth._

_"Ah there's the little fellow!" Robert said fondly._

_Mary gently tugged his thumb out, murmuring into his little ear, "Benji darling, say bye bye to your brothers."_

_Benjamin rubbed his eyes, flashed them a tired smile and waved, "Bye!"_

_Everybody laughed except Edward. Mary tried to pull him close for a hug but he pushed her away in embarrassment. Mary tried not to let the hurt show on her face. Instead she just patted his cheek and turned her attention to Joseph who warmly welcomed her embrace._

_Isobel hurried forward to kiss her grandson's cheek. "Have fun darling and don't worry too much."_

_"I won't." Edward replied in a disgruntled voice._

_Matthew sauntered towards his son, suddenly feeling a strenuous rush of memories flooding his mind. Holding Edward, rocking him to sleep, watching him crawl, then pull himself up to stand which turned into small steps. Those steps eventually flowed into a steady run which he mastered throughout most of his early childhood, bumping into furniture and breaking all sorts, causing all kinds of mayhem that the Crawley family hadn't had in years. The point was, Edward had brought a new kind of spirit into Downton Abbey and as exhausting and irritating that he found it, Matthew just wasn't sure if he wanted to let that go – at all._

_ Edward kept flicking glances at him with those large, brown eyes but he didn't say a word. Matthew twitched his cheek into a sad smile. "Well, don't miss us to much will you?"_

_Edward scoffed but his eyes were still glazed with anxiety. Matthew sighed softly and crouched down beside him. "Ed, listen my boy. It's perfectly normal to feel nervous on your first term at school."_

_"I'm not nervous!" Edward stated defensively, his eyes growing round with anger._

_Matthew just smiled at his son's defiance. "We're always going to be here. And you won't be alone, you'll have Joe with you and you'll make lots of friends. This is the start of a brand new future for you! As your grandfather said, this will be the making of you." He clasped his son's shoulder, "So chin up Ed."_

_"I said I'm not nervous Papa!" Edward protested, roughly shrugging out of his father's grasp, "I just - can't wait to get away from here! That's all!"_

_Matthew pursed his lips tightly before saying in a very controlled voice, "Now I know you don't mean that Edward."_

_"Well, maybe I'll miss riding Chestnut," Edward said wryly. "But that's all."_

_Matthew sighed again. It was the closest he was going to get. "All right," He whispered, patting his son's cheek, "All right."_

_Edward gritted his teeth and marched straight past his father, hurtling himself into the car._

_"No goodbye for us?" Robert asked, exchanging a knowing glance with Matthew and trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice, "No matter, we can still see him on weekends. That is if he wants to come back at all."_

_"Ah, you know our Edward, he'll be back before you know it!" Matthew said in reassurance, clapping his father-in-law on the shoulder._

_ "And causing all sorts of trouble in no time!" Cora added with a chuckle._

_"Bye!" Joseph waved fondly, easily settled into the pattern of leaving and arriving from school. But it was still all very new to Edward. "Cheer up Ed." He said in a comforting voice, sliding into the backseat next to his sullen brother. "Eton will be fun, trust me." When he received no response he just nudged him, "Eh? Don't worry about it. I was terrified when I first left but once I got there, I remembered that it's where Grandpapa went and where Great-grandpapa went. Now we're going there too."_

_"Lucky us." Edward mumbled sourly. The car started to pull away from Downton Abbey and crawl around the circular patch of grass. Edward suddenly spun around in his seat to see his family waving at him. He slowly lifted up a hand and rested it against the glass._

**_September 3rd 1940_**

"Now have you got everything?" Mary quietly asked her sixteen year old son after she released him from a long embrace. She tenderly reached out to adjust his military cap.

Edward batted her hand away, "Yes Mama I have everything, stop fussing." He reached down to gather his kit bag together and without saying another word, hoisted it onto his shoulder.

Never had he looked more ready to go. It was all final.

As he was to be stationed abroad, the army had sent a car to collect him, which meant that they had to say all their goodbyes then and there. Mary felt a cold and sickening feeling settle into the pit of her stomach. Exactly a year ago to the day, she had been dreading this very moment. Oh, how she wanted to scream, beg and plead with him not to go, not to throw away his life when he didn't have to, not yet! The war could very well finish before he turns eighteen and then his life would have been spared.

But she said nothing. Because she couldn't. Her grief had sewn her lips shut so all she could do was nod and smile. She glanced up at the sky; it was pitch black and completely cloudless, dotted with a few weak stars. Hopefully Joseph would be able to see all right tonight. Mary casually glanced towards the chauffeur's cottage where Rebecca now hid. Mary breathed an inward sigh of relief at her ineptness in gardening. Thank God she didn't trim those hedges properly as it covered most of the cottage, hiding it from everyone's view. Edward had visited Rebecca early that morning to bid farewell, she had clung to him and cried, never wanting to let him go. He in turn, told her to take care of herself and the baby. The whole scene was wretched.

"Well…very best of luck my darling grandson." Cora whispered with a sad smile, pulling Edward into an embrace. She held on tight to his hands, "I know you'll come back to us."

"Hopefully in one piece." Edward joked. Mary looked away, pained.

Isobel pressed a kiss to his cheek and patted his red-cross armband, saying in a voice drenched with pride, "You take care of those boys all right?"

Edward choked out a laugh, "I'll try Granny. I'll do my very best I promise!" He saluted her and she laughed.

"I should imagine so!" Her eyes turned serious, "Because it's in your blood Edward. Don't you forget that!"

"I won't." Edward replied with sincerity.

Mary and Cora exchanged exasperated looks while Edward bade goodbye to Georgina. Matthew emerged from behind the car where he had been conversing with the driver for the past ten minutes, but Mary knew he was hiding, trying to pull himself together. From his stoic expression, it certainly looked like he was trying to hold his emotions in.

Matthew had almost reached breaking point, not quite there but almost. All that was standing between Germany and Britain now was the small force of RAF fighter pilots which, according to Dominic, are outnumbered four to one. Matthew was terrified; there was no other way to describe it. He had nearly lost his eldest son at Dunkirk and now Joseph was back in the RAF which flings him up into the air to do battle at least five times a day, putting him at risk, again!

During the blessed couple of days when he was sent home, he would stumble up the stairs, consumed with battle fatigue and collapse onto his bed. Not that he managed to get much rest. Many a time they'd run into his room after hearing his torturous screams and try to calm him down while he thrashed around in his haunted slumber, yelling about boats and bombs, fire and water…

"Are we – all set?" Matthew asked in a careful voice, edging towards his son. Edward's military training certainly had buffed him up, but that still didn't diminish the fact that he had volunteered himself at sixteen. And Matthew had let him? What kind of a father was he?

"Yes I'm all set." Edward cocked his head to one side and said with as much compassion as he could muster, "Listen, I think I'm going to just go ahead and go. Make it easier for everyone. I – I just don't want any of that – fussing that you do." He addressed his mother apologetically.

Mary's mouth fell in indignation, "What fussing? I don't fuss!" She moved to caress his cheek, "I only want to say – goodbye and good luck - to you because you're my son and I love you."

Edward backed away, his hands raised, "Mama please, I don't want it to be like the day Joe left! I – I don't want there to be any tears, I can't handle that!" His voice was vibrating with months suppressed emotion. "Joe can. He's used to all that – sensitive rubbish." Matthew and Isobel exchanged a knowing look. "But I'm not. I'm all on my own now and I have to get used to it."

Matthew placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder, looking directly in his eyes and when he spoke, his tone was hoarse with love. "Edward listen to me. If you're feeling scared, you know it's still not too late to change your mind. I can get you -"

"No!" Edward said firmly, "No, I'm going. I'm not a coward. I'm not scared. I've spent months training for this and I'm ready." He swallowed hard. "And besides, I'll only be a nuisance at home anyway won't I? Running up all kinds of debts -"

"Forget that," Matthew interrupted dismissively, "You were just trying to find a way to channel your frustrations and I should have been more sensitive to that."

Edward raised his brow in surprise, "Gosh Papa. Anyone would think you just apologized to me."

"We really have to get moving!" The driver yelled, slicing through the fragile moment between the father and son.

"All right. I suppose that's my cue." Edward said nervously. Everyone held their breath as they watched Matthew and Edward. They stood opposite each other, deciding which one should make the first move.

Matthew did.

He encircled his arms around his little boy – yes little boy and held him tight. Edward froze. He tried to pull away but Matthew wouldn't let him, he just held onto him tighter. "Goodbye Edward." He whispered hoarsely into his son's ear, trying so very hard not to break down then and there, "And such good luck."

Edward's lips twitched into a tender smile. He welcomed his father's embrace and patted him on the back. As they broke apart, the smile still remained. "I'll come back Papa." He said softly. "I promise."

Matthew opened his mouth to reprimand him but decided against it. So he nodded and opened the car door for his son. Edward slid into it and let his father shut the door on him, just as he did with Joseph. Matthew raised a hand in farewell.

Everything was silent except for the hum of the motor and crunch of gravel as the motor quickly pulled away from Downton Abbey and steadily scuttled around the patch of grass. Edward spun around in his seat, watching his family waving half-heartedly at him. He reached out his hand and rested it on the cool glass.

Matthew watched until the guarding light from the military car had disappeared completely, carrying his son with him. Then the tears started to burn. In an instant he felt her hand on his shoulder and her arms slip around his waist. Easing just some of the insufferable pain he was feeling in his chest.

"The hard part is over," Mary whispered shakily into his ear, "It's over."

* * *

><p><strong><em>September 4th 1940<em>**

**_5:00pm_**

"A year ago yesterday. Can you believe it?" Frederick Trevelyan asked Joseph. They were sitting in the canteen of the RAF base, watching some of the other Pilots mulling around while the others disappeared to their bunks to get some sleep.

"Well, a lot has happened since then so I suppose… yes." Joseph mumbled, absently pouring a stream of sugar into his coffee cup. He took a small sip and shuddered. He wasn't an avid fan of the beverage but he needed it to keep awake.

"So how's Dominic doing after that shock we had this afternoon?" Frederick asked gravely. "It was a close shave wasn't it?"

Joseph raised his brow and nodded, mechanically stirring his coffee, "It certainly was. I think he's sleeping off the trauma, God knows he needs to. I thought for sure he was going to end up into the ocean but – it was lucky he managed to recover in time to pull himself back up."

"What about you?" Frederick asked with a wry smile, "You shot down two enemy planes yesterday and another one today . That's certainly put you in the Air Chief Marshal's good books!"

Joseph rolled his tired eyes, "I don't see anything good in killing people." He said blandly, "I never have and I never will."

"Yes I still don't understand that." Frederick replied with an amused shake of his head, "You're ruthless up there Crawley! And you certainly don't take any prisoners. I didn't think you'd have it in you for all your talk of pacifism but I stand corrected."

"Well it's not something I'm eager to boast about!" Joseph responded cuttingly, his temper rising due to lack of sleep. He glanced at Frederick with regret, "Sorry for being so short Fred. I just don't want to be one of those Pilots who -"

"So tell me lads, how long do you think these battles are going to last?" Flying Officer Pearce interrupted as he dropped into the seat next to Joseph, looking completely exhausted. "Because I don't know if I can last that long."

Joseph released a tired laugh and rubbed his eyes. "Don't worry Pearce. It can't be long now."

Barely had the words left his mouth when the alarm sliced through the tired and dense atmosphere, jolting all the Pilots and Plotters out of their reverie and into action. All three Pilots at the table groaned and leapt out of their seats, dashing towards the exits with incredible speed.

"Here we go again!" Frederick grumbled while they jogged towards their Spitfires, the process becoming too repetitive for their liking.

"It's all part of the job Trevelyan," Joseph muttered breathlessly, allowing his aircrew to swiftly strap him up. "Let's go get them!" He hauled himself into his Spitfire and pulled the canopy down. It clicked firmly into place, locking him in. Automatically he checked the controls, flicking switches, adjusting dials, making sure everything was in perfect order and all the while, trying not to let the adrenaline engulf him. He needed to keep a straight and clear head. As soon as he revved up the engines, the aircrew scuttled back. Joseph quickly shot them a thumb up and prepared for take-off.

With his heart thumping in anticipation and fear, Joseph and his fellow Pilots trundled along the grass runway and climbed into the cloudless sky to meet their enemy.

* * *

><p><em><strong>September<strong> **5th 1940**_

_**12:30pm**_

"Jews are ordered to wear yellow stars for identification." Matthew read in a disoriented voice. He folded up the paper in disgust and swiftly rose from the table, "Now I've heard it all. I'll be in the study if anyone needs me." He marched out of the dining room.

Mary and Georgina watched him go with sensitive eyes.

"He just needs time to adjust the fact that Edward's gone." Isobel said in a careful voice, "It's hard for him."

Mary sidled a sharp glance towards her mother-in-law, slowly picking up her teacup and saying in a tone laced with indignation, "It's hard for all of us Isobel."

"Of course it is," Isobel said casually, "But I think Matthew still feels quite haunted by the fact that the war won't leave him alone. Twenty-six years ago it took him and last year, he found out that it would take his sons. Now it's all final."

"His sons?" Mary echoed, trying to keep her voice on an even keel, "This war has taken his sons?"

"Your sons." Isobel corrected hastily, "I know I still get chills whenever I think about it. You know, during the last war I was constantly wondering if my son was ever going to come back alive or in one piece. Now I have to it all over again with my grandsons."

Mary had to chew hard on her tongue to stop herself from yelling all kinds of things at her mother-in-law but for the sake of Georgina and Benjamin, she just nodded and said with as much strength as she could, "I agree."

"What are you up to today then Granny?" Georgina asked swiftly, eager to clear the tense atmosphere.

Isobel glanced around to check if anyone was in earshot before dropping her voice to a whisper. "Well before I go back to the hospital, I could take some lunch over to our little friend around the corner. If you like?"

Mary and Georgina nodded in realisation. Benjamin frowned in confusion, "Who?"

"Never you mind!" Mary said quickly. They ate in silence for a few more seconds until Benjamin and Georgina eventually excused themselves and left, leaving just Mary and Isobel alone together and the tender clink of cutlery on delicate china. Suddenly, Mary threw down her knife and fork, "How did you do it Isobel?" She clenched her fists together, her voice vibrating with suppressed emotion. "How did you get through it?"

Isobel turned to her daughter-in-law, "Well," She said thoughtfully, "I don't know if you remember but I decided to bury my grief and my anxiety in my work."

Mary released a small chuckle, "I remember well. Everyone thought you were just desperate to be in control."

"I suppose it must've looked like that." Isobel said softly, "But Mary trust me when I say, in times like these you must find yourself something to do or else you'll go mad. Thank God for my nursing. It kept me grounded then and it's keeping me grounded now."

Mary contemplated those words, finally feeling that she could accomplish something in this dreadful war. "You know, I think I'm going to take control on the evacuation scheme." Mary said with a small smile, "It's moving too slow for my liking and I'm not happy about it." Her smile wilted, "And I know it'll keep my mind off my boys."

* * *

><p><strong><em>7:00pm<em>**

Joseph could see it now. The Messerschmitt tilted just below his Spit. It was gloriously within his range. He could definitely hit it. Twilight was creeping up on them now and soon it would be pitch black. If he was going to take down his third enemy plane of the day, now was his chance.

Still keeping the Messerschmitt within his gaze, Flight Lieutenant Joseph Crawley calmly switched on his reflector sight, flicked the catch on his gun button from 'Safe' to 'Fire,' and surreptitiously lowered his seat until the dot on his reflector sight glared it's familiar crimson glow. Joseph glided right above the enemy plane, holding onto the catch… he released the latch quickly, allowing the bomb to drop beneath him.

The amber cloud of fire which engulfed the Messerschmitt, erupted high enough for Joseph to know that he had done it. Just like all the others, he waited to feel some sense of accomplishment. But he had just killed another man.

All he felt was a hollow emptiness.

* * *

><p><strong><em>September 6th 1940<em>**

**_9:00pm_**

"So Aunt Rosamund's terribly ill and she wants to see us tomorrow." Mary asked Matthew with caution that evening. They were all huddled around the wireless, listening to the latest news and Mary decided now would be the right moment to broach her husband with the subject. "It's a Saturday and we're not busy so I told her we could go." She added hopefully.

Matthew impatiently closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I thought we all agreed not to travel up to London at the moment." He said with an edge of irritation to his voice.

"Papa we'll be back soon." Georgina said softly, "And nothing's happened up in London yet, I'm sure it's all rumours."

"Aunt Rosamund says it's all just precaution at the moment and nothing's happened yet." Mary said quickly. "She says it'll be perfectly safe."

"Oh does she now? Well, that certainly brings me comfort." Matthew responded, his tone smothered with sarcasm.

"Please Papa." Georgina pouted, "It's only to see Aunt Rosamund, it's not like we're going shopping or anything." Truth be told, Georgina couldn't care less if it was about Rosamund or not. She just needed a small change of scenery at the moment. They all did.

Well, all but Matthew.

"I can't go I've got a ton of work I need to catch up on." Matthew said curtly. "Those idiots up at Crawley House can't follow instructions properly!"

Mary released a slow breath before saying, "All right. Then – I'll take Georgina and Benji up by myself."

Matthew's head snapped towards her. "Will you heck!" He said sharply.

"Matthew," Isobel interrupted firmly, "I don't see any reason why Mary can't take Georgina and Benjamin up to London. She's perfectly capable of managing by herself. Besides, Benjamin could do with a day out. You know how insecure he's getting of the new – baby."

Mary thinned her lips and patted the false baby bump she created for herself using different sized pillows. It still wasn't a subject people felt comfortable talking about.

Matthew opened his mouth to try and vent his fustrations on his mother but the radio announcements immediately forced him to shut up.

First the BBC started to update them on the situation in the air battles, describing everything in detail. Joseph's name was mentioned in passing while they congratulated him on shooting down five enemy planes in the past three days.

Matthew swallowed his discomfort at this news, instinctively sharing a knowing look with Mary. From the way Joseph was being portrayed, it was all becoming too heroic for their liking which could only end in disaster. Matthew closed his eyes and clenched his fists aching to punch something.

Being heroic would only end in complete tragedy. He should know.

* * *

><p><strong><em>September 7th 1940<em>**

**_4:00pm_**

From fifteen thousand feet up in the air, Joseph Crawley heaved an impatient sigh while he scanned the sky and the horizons for even a glimpse of the enemy. But nope, five minutes up in the air and still there was nothing. Joseph dipped his Spitfire down lower, taking a morsel of his time to admire the view of lush green fields and roads beneath him. Wisps of clouds drifted past him. It was remarkable how he was able to be here, amongst something so beautiful. He couldn't stop the smirk from spreading while he thought of what his parents would say if he landed his plane right on the front lawn of Downton Abbey.

All of a sudden, a new trajectory broke through on the R.T, Joseph immediately swung his Spitfire round, just about regaining his balance when Frederick's flustered voice blared through his earphones.

"To the right! To the right!" He yelled.

"I hear you Trevelyan." Joseph mumbled, swiftly glancing towards Frederick's position, his heart plummeting and his mouth flooding dry as he saw them.

Funnily enough, Joseph's very first thought was that the sight was quite beautiful. From a certain distance they appeared to be just pinpricks of light like fireflies upon the blue sky.

But as his squadron hurtled nearer, all the details grew clearer and the yellow noses of the Messerschmitt fighters grew sharply into focus, jolting Joseph out of his reverie. He glared around the horizon with intense desperation. The Messerschmitt's were conquering the sky, hovering above their squadron and below them. Joseph swallowed his panic, trying very hard not to break down mid-flight. The horrifying fact remained - they were all sandwiched between the enemy planes and they didn't have a way out. Oh Jesus Christ.

* * *

><p><em><strong>4:00pm<strong>_

Matthew's hand reached for the telephone receiver and pressed it to his ear, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Lord Grantham."

"Lord Grantham? Is General Jacobi."

Matthew immediately straightened up, his heart hammering in anxiety. "Jacobi. What's wrong?"

"Cromwell." Jacobi answered with solemn desperation.

Matthew was sure his heart nearly stopped. "What?"

"Cromwell." Jacobi repeated and then added quickly, "The Luftwaffe is shifting their focus away from the RAF airfields and heading straight for the Capital. We're expecting an attack around seven tonight, no civilian knows anything yet. We're sending the alert to the RAF right now, your son should be informed soon. Stay safe Lord Grantham. " He promptly hung up the phone.

Numbness flooded every inch of Matthew's body as he comprehended Jacobi's word. Cromwell was the code word that the military had issued them during signs of an impending invasion, when a German invasion was imminent. "Cromwell?" He whispered hoarsely, every name of every person he ever knew in the city raced to the forefront of his mind. The Napiers, Tommy, Rosamund... Matthew's stomach lurched with fear – Rosamund! Mary! Georgina and Benjamin!

Matthew bolted out of the chair so fast it toppled to the floor, "Mother!" He yelled, "Mother!"

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	35. Cromwell

**Author's Note:**Hey, thanks for all the reviews, glad to see you're still sticking with it! So... Joseph's still fighting in the Battle of Britain and Matthew's racing against time to save his family, but will he make it?

Enjoy and please tell me what you think!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 35 – Cromwell<strong>

Joseph's hand gripped the throttle leaver with so much force, his engine started to vibrate. How were they going to get out of this situation? Was he going to get shot down? Would he burn alive?

Frederick's voice crackled into his ear while he barked tactical orders through the earphones.

"Roger." Joseph muttered, glancing out of his window to check that the rest of his squadron were following these orders before swinging his plane around in a perfect circumference, ready to launch his beams right into the heart of the crowd of Messerscmitt 109's.

Joseph waited for the order.

"Now!" Frederick screamed. They all dipped down, Joseph released his hand from the throttle leaver so he could grab both hands on the stick, his thumbs caressing the gun button, steadying the fighter.

He heard his Merlin engine shriek as he plunged down in a steep dive and attach himself onto the tail of the Messerschmitt's. "Come on you bastard." He murmured.

The sky was speckled with aircrafts hurling themselves in different directions but Joseph only had focus on the one Messerschmitt 109 he had selected as target. He gritted his teeth in concentration and aimed his red light onto the intended aircraft, hoping to get a decent shot -

His Spitfire started to shudder, coughing copious amounts of steam. His panic accelerated as his plane trembled in the air, damn it, he must be out of fuel! How the hell was that possible? Had he really been flying that long? The plane was tipping, Joseph cursed and swiftly started to lower himself down, searching for a clean field to land.

Trying to maintain his balance in the air, Joseph grasped his R.T. and shouted into it, "Squadron Leader Trevelyan! Do you read me? This is Flight Lieutenant Crawley; I've run out of fuel! Preparing for emergency landing now, cover me!"

Frederick's voice sizzled through his earphones, "Flight Lieutenant Crawley I read you. Roger that, taking position now!" Joseph dipped lower and tried to dodge the Messerschmitt's which were flinging shots at him from all angles, finally catching the wing of his Spitfire. It quivered in pain, overturning like a wounded bird, smoke trailing from behind the engine.

Without hesitation, Joseph grabbed the R.T again and yelled, "Trevelyan I've been hit! I'm going to jump, over and out!" He pushed up the canopy and leaped out of the plane, tugging on the strap of his bomber jacket so his parachute erupted in a protective veil, supporting him to safety.

Joseph Crawley had been very lucky indeed. As he glided down into the lush fields, he lifted up his head just in time to see his Spitfire explode into a charred amber cloud. While pinpricks of sparks, ash and the remnants of his fighter plane dripped past him, Joe released a gasp of horror, shock, relief, whichever emotion it was, he was truly thankful that he had made the escape in time.

* * *

><p>Benjamin Crawley released a huff of impatience and glared around the large foyer of Rosamund's house. He was seated on the bottom stair with his chin resting in the little cups of his hands, itching to run around and explore. But he had been specifically told to wait right there while Aunt Rosamund nattered to his mother and sister. He wasn't allowed to be in on the conversation. After tea, Rosamund had sent him out because she said he'd just 'get in the way.' Mary tried to argue for the sake of her son but in the end she lost out and sent him away with a deeply apologetic look glistening in her eyes. But of course Benjamin, gentle and clever like his father, knew it wasn't her fault.<p>

He just couldn't understand why Aunt Rosamund didn't like him or his brothers. Then again, he couldn't understand a lot of things. He couldn't understand why Joe kept coming home but was always sleeping, he couldn't understand why his father was always angry, he couldn't understand why Rebecca suddenly went to stay with Aunt Sybil and he certainly couldn't understand the big fuss everyone was making about the new baby.

The telephone screamed through the grand foyer, jolting Benjamin in alarm. He waited for a few seconds for someone to answer it but after about four rings no one came. The astute seven year old surreptitiously glanced around the empty foyer and then flicked his eyes to the phone which was nestled in the corner of the foyer. So very carefully, Benjamin scampered down the last few steps and scuttled towards the telephone, once again glancing around to check no one was coming. He furrowed his little brow and lifted the heavy receiver, putting it to his ear like he had seen his father and Mr Cutler do many a time.

"Hello?" Benjamin said in tentative daring, trying to emulate his father's firm tone.

_"Benji?"_ Isobel replied in complete astonishment. _"Benjamin is that you?"_ Her voice dropped to a whisper, _"It's Benjamin that's answered the phone."_

"Granny?" Benjamin asked curiously, "I'm here Granny." He heard some fierce mumbling from the other end of the phone and then his father's agitated voice.

_"Benjamin are you still there?"_

"Papa!" Benjamin responded in delight, "Hello Papa! I'm here! I'm answering the phone!"

_"Benji why on earth are you – no never mind, never mind! Listen Benji I really need you to put your Mama on the phone!"_ Matthew said urgently.

"She's talking to Aunt Rosamund." Benjamin said simply.

_"Yes, yes I know Benji but this is important! Very important!"_ Matthew retorted, trying to remain desperately calm for the sake of his seven year old and not scare him even though he was bound to be soon. _"Please can you just run up and bring her down. Tell her it's me, I'm calling from the station and I'm on my way to you."_

"But Aunt Rosamund doesn't want me to go in Papa, she called me a – a nuisance and told me to wait on the stairs!" He whimpered.

_"Listen Benji,"_ Matthew pressed, trying to keep the pleading to a minimum, _"I really don't think Aunt Rosamund will care whether you go in or not. You have got to go up there, get your Mama and Georgina down here now and get into a bunker Benji! Do you understand me my boy? Get everyone into a bunker!"_

Benjamin eyes widened, "All right Papa. I'll go -"

"Er - excuse me young man!"

Benjamin gasped in surprise at the sound of Mr Fulton's indignant voice. The little boy stared wide eyed as the Butler strode haughtily towards him, his lips set in an irritated line. Unfortunately, Matthew couldn't see the situation which forced his son into a stunned silence and with his knowledge; it was only natural that he would assume the very worst.

_"Benji? Benjamin?"_ Matthew demanded, his voice dripping with panic and terror while his mind broke loose with all sorts of horrifying images. _"Benjamin what's happening? What's -"_

Fulton snatched the receiver out of Benjamin's hand and slammed it back down. "The telephone isn't a toy you know young man."

"I have to talk to my Mama!" Benjamin tried to run towards the stairs but Fulton swiftly stepped in front of him.

"No, no, no!" He said hastily, "I've been told to keep you down here. If you go up then her Ladyship will take it out on me and well," He chuckled bitterly, "We wouldn't want that would we?"

"But my Papa says it's very important!" Benjamin tried to protest but his words fell on deaf ears. After all, what good were the words of a seven year old?

"Hush little one," Fulton said in a dismissive tone which just affronted the boy even more. He patted Benji's head in a highly patronizing manner and practically pushed him towards the nearest chair. "Now sit back down here, there's a good boy. And I'll see to some juice for you all right?

Benjamin just crossed his arms and scowled in response. Fulton's face fell and he backed away muttering, "And that's why I never had children."

The ingenious boy waited until Fulton's footsteps had disappeared before leaping out of his seat and scampering up the grand staircase as fast as his little legs could carry him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>6:01pm<strong>_

"Matthew for goodness sake calm down!" Isobel snapped, glaring at her son who was pacing frantically around their compartment and trying to keep his balance while the train trundled towards London. "You're not helping your family by panicking!"

"Well what do you suggest I do?" He shot back, "London is going to be bombed in less than an hour, what's left of my family is in one of the most affluent parts of the city which is bound to be their first target, to say nothing of Tommy and everyone else we know!" He paused to allow himself time to breathe. "And by God could this train be any slower!" He spat.

Isobel closed her eyes briefly before saying with as much calmness as she could, "Matthew please sit down and have a cup of tea to calm your nerves."

Matthew released a gruff sigh, "I don't want a cup of tea, I want to be with my family! But I can't. It seems I can never be with my family these days! My wife, my eldest daughter and my youngest son is in the centre of mortal peril!"

"Matthew you're -"

"I've got my eldest son flying in these horrific air battles!" Matthew continued, his eyes wide with fury, "My other son has gone off to Egypt at sixteen and my youngest daughter is shut up, pregnant at fourteen! What kind of a father am I?"

"Matthew!" Isobel chided loudly, pulling him into focus, "You need to stop blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong! While you're shut up in your study wallowing in self-pity, you know Joseph and Edward are risking their lives for this country."

Matthew shot her look of incredulity and opened his mouth to retort but she cut him off, "No, I'm sorry you have to hear this! Edward joined up as a combat medic because he wanted to help people. That was his choice and his decision, odd as it may seem given his personality but that's Edward for you. These air battles that Joseph fights in - is because he's trying to protect this country from the clutches of a very evil man who is apparently going to drop a bomb on the city where your family are. If it wasn't for boys like Joseph, Hitler would've got to us months ago! And as for Rebecca, it's a terrible thing to happen to her, yes, but instead of closing the stable door once the horse has bolted, pull yourself together and for God's sake hold her hand through it! You're going to be a father again whether you like it or not and it's up to you – you and Mary and all of us, to make sure this new child never hears a word about its conception!"

Matthew's panic state shrunk slightly in the heat of truth behind his mother's angry words. And he knew she was right. He knew that sometimes situations were beyond his control, he knew that Edward would be saving soldier's lives now he was a trained medic, he knew that Joseph was needed now more than ever for the sake of the country even if it did mean risking his life again and he knew that it was too late to dwell on the 'what ifs' of Rebecca's situation. He might resent the idea of bringing up the child wrapped in a lie but if it could protect everyone then it had to be done.

"But it's my fault Mary and the children are up in London today." Matthew whispered, despair sewn into his voice, "I have to get to them Mother."

"What are you going to do when you get there?" Isobel asked dubiously, "Just run to Rosamunds, pull them out and then what? You can't come back home."

Matthew clenched his hands into tight fists while he pondered this thought, "I'm sure Cousin Rosamund has a shelter we can stay in. I'd rather be miles away, safe at home but at least we'll all be together and I can protect them!"

"Matthew are you sure it's going to happen tonight?" Isobel asked with some doubt.

"For the hundredth time this hour Mother, yes I am sure." Matthew replied in a controlled voice, "You know there's only a strict amount of information I can tell you but – I know it's going to happen."

"And your friends over in Intelligence, have they never been wrong before?" Isobel asked emphatically.

Matthew shot her an exasperated look, "Mother we've been over this. Don't involve yourself where it doesn't concern you." He said in a clipped voice.

"On the contrary Matthew I think this does concern me." Isobel said, very firm and straightforward. "I'm your mother not a Nazi spy." Matthew twitched in indignation at his mother's flippancy. "And this is my family too. This 'strict amount of information,' 'National Secrets Act' you keep harping back to whenever you try and weasel your way out of not telling us the truth, is just a manipulative way to split the country between those that fight upfront and those that fight backstage! A way to instigate power between the upper, middle and working classes!"

"Mother!"

"I'm sorry but it's not fair that these 'military intelligence' people, who know very important information, feel it necessary to keep it from us for our protection! When it'll have quite the opposite effect!" Isobel said cuttingly.

"London was prepared for a hit." Matthew said in a shaking voice, "They've been preparing all year. It was only a matter of time."

"Except they'll just think this is a false alarm won't they?" Isobel said pointedly, striking at the notion Matthew harboured in his own mind. "Just like they have been all year. But it won't be will it." His diligent eyes flicked towards her. "You know it. I know it. The damned military intelligence know it. But the civilians don't do they?" She stared her son down. He had the good grace to avert his eyes in disgrace.

"No."

"You get the call about this impending bomb three hours before the attack, on a day when your family go up to London!" Isobel railed.

"What's your point Mother?" Matthew asked through gritted teeth.

"Isn't there any way they could have alerted you sooner as supposed to three hours before?" She asked in disbelief.

Matthew sunk back into his seat only to leap back up again. He couldn't sit still. With every ticking second it brought them closer and closer to the outburst. "No Mother these things aren't premeditated."

"Yes they are!"

"Oh you know what I mean." Matthew huffed, "Slander the Intelligence all you want, they've helped me out a great deal here." He cast a dark eye over the blur of trees, "I just hope we get to them in time Mother. God, knows what would happen if…" He trailed off, the lump of sorrow finally lodging in his throat, permitting him from uttering so much as a small cry.

Isobel softened slightly; she reached out to pat the seat next to her. "Just focus on getting to them. Keep focusing on them."

All of a sudden the train came to a shuddering halt. Matthew, completely caught off guard, stumbled into the seat. He leapt back up in a state of confused fluster, "What in God's name was that?"

"You don't suppose …? Matthew you don't think…?" Isobel stared up at her son with doleful eyes, her tone clearly implying the worst.

"No!" Matthew retorted, his tone raspy and shaken, "Don't even say it Mother! Don't even think it! It's too early!" He pulled the compartment door open with such a force it bounced back. Matthew sidled into the corridor, joining the other curious passengers who had spilled out of their compartments. He turned to the nearest man, "What's going on?"

The man shrugged and started mumbling frantically, Matthew caught the words 'Clapham Junction,' 'bomb' and 'London' and that was enough to send him scramming back into his compartment.

Isobel jolted out of her seat, one look on her son's petrified face told her everything she needed to know. She took a collective breath and placed both hands on his shoulder, "Now Matthew," She started calmly while his breathing started to grow hoarse and ragged with panic, "We don't know all the facts. Try and calm down while we think of a way out of this train." She shuffled to the window and tried to peer outside. "From the looks of things the top end is at Clapham Junction station so I suppose we could always walk down and then make our way to London. But I don't know if they're going to let us out." She turned back only to see that Matthew had vanished, the compartment door bouncing slightly on its hinges.

"Matthew!" Isobel dashed after him. "Matthew wait for me!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>6:01pm<strong>_

"No the Spitfire is most certainly not all right! It's been blown to smithereens!" Joseph barked into the telephone receiver, his voice reverberating around the narrow phone box. Fortunately he had landed in a field belonging to a rural village, therefore he was able to trek to the nearest phone and call back to his Squadron Base at Biggin Hill. "And I could've been in there! But I'm fine, thank you for your concern!" He added, his voice dripping with sarcastic disdain.

_"Do try and calm down Flight Lieutenant Crawley."_ Air Chief Marshal Lennox said blandly, _"You could've ended up much worse than being stranded in a nice village."_

Joseph released a low breath of anger, leaning his arm on the wall in front of him and resting his forehead against it. "Yes I know that Air Chief Marshal Lennox." He said in a tight voice laced with politeness, "But you see my fuel ran out just before I was about to shoot down a Messerschmitt 109 and I was preparing for an emergency landing when I got shot down."

_"Well, it's lucky you managed to escape without a scratch then isn't it?"_ Lennox replied with emphasis.

A man dressed in a Home Guard uniform rapped frantically on the door, his face furrowed in panic. Joseph just flashed his palm up and turned his back on him. "Yes it is rather lucky given the circumstances. Now, how do I get back?"

_"Where are you? It can't be far, we'll send a rescue plane to you."_

"Uh," Joseph absently glanced around the telephone box, searching for some clue of his whereabouts. He noticed the man pacing outside, so pushing the door open, he stuck his head out and asked civilly, "Excuse me sir but please could you tell me the name of this village?"

"Warlingham." The man answered quickly. "But look young man -" He was cut off by the sound of church bells ringing.

"I'm in Warlingham…" Joseph trailed off as the name struck a distant chord, "Warlingham? Warlingham, that's near Croydon isn't it?"

_"Yes and not too far from Biggin Hill but Croydon is closer."_ Lennox said swiftly.

"Croydon has an airport doesn't it?" Joseph said lightly, amazed at how such a small town could contain such a vital war element.

_"They do. We'll contact the Croydon Aerodrome now and they should send someone to you in… hold on Crawley,"_ His voice was suddenly gripped with panic,_ "Crawley don't move! Stay right where you are!"_

"Why?" Joseph demanded in confusion, but for some reason the line was starting to break up.

_"Cr –ell! - Cr-ell! - Th-ts - why you…. "_

The line was cut dead.

"Air Chief Marshal Lennox?" Joseph said with caution, "Hello? Hello?" He frowned at the receiver and then slammed the phone down.

The man from the Home Guard tapped on the glass again, this time more forceful. Joseph pushed the door open and stepped outside, the church bells ringing dissonantly in his ears. "What's the matter?"

"Is it true?" The man asked, wringing his hands in anxiety, "Tell me it's just a false alarm! Please!" He begged, "I have family – my brother and his children live there!"

"Where?" Joseph asked calmly.

"London." The man whispered, "Tell me it's not true?"

Joseph Crawley's eyes widened in horror as the truth dawned on him. It all made sense now. The church bells, the half-empty village, Air Chief Marshal Lennox's orders to stay put… and Cr-ell. His voice had been distorted but Joseph understood.

"Cromwell," He susurrated in a shaking voice. Cromwell. London was going to be bombed.

Aunt Rosamund.

Tommy.

Joseph's stomach plunged with fear.

_Amelia._

* * *

><p><em><strong>6:01pm<strong>_

Mary shifted her teacup from one hand to another, trying to remain elegantly still in her seat while her Aunt Rosamund lounged back in her four-poster bed, prattling on and on about idle talk, occasionally confusing mother and daughter, addressing Mary as Georgina or vice versa. Sometimes she'd become eerily quiet and retreat into her own world, muttering about small snippets from the past, only to be lured out again by a single word or phrase from the present and then she'd sit up and continue chatting on and on like nothing had happened.

Georgina who was summoned to sit right near the bed and hold Rosamund's hand, tried hard to look as though she were paying attention but her eyes were clearly glazed with boredom and sheer irritation. Whenever she was called by her mother's name, she just let it pass. She had become so used to her aunt's peculiar behaviour it was almost normal.

Mary cast a withering glance around Aunt Rosamund's bedroom, feeling quite claustrophobic amongst the dim atmosphere. The blackout curtains plastered to the windows blocked any morsel of sunlight so the only source of light they had was from the weak, flickering lamps by the bedside. The entire room – no, house - enveloped them in gloom. Mary heaved a tired sigh, her thoughts now wandering to her little boy downstairs who was sat like a naughty child on the steps. Poor Benji, she thought with a small pinch at her heart, he hates to sit still and one minute is like an hour to children. He must be suffering so.

"Now I have something very important I wish to discuss with you both." Rosamund said in a severe tone, setting her teacup down with a shaking hand. Immediately Mary and Georgina snapped back into focus.

"Oh?" Georgina asked with forced politeness, "That sounds rather serious Aunt Rosamund."

"It is serious Mary my dear. So very, very serious." Rosamund said in a voice which teetered on the brink of exaggeration. Georgina, anticipating what was going to come next, shot her mother a desperate look which suggested they make their excuses and leave now.

"As you can tell – I am clearly very ill and I doubt I shall survive till the end of this year, let alone the end of the war." Rosamund continued in a dramatic tone.

Georgina's face drooped in lethargic response whereas Mary quickly sprang to her Aunt's defence. "Don't say such things like that Aunt Rosamund! We cannot anticipate the future."

"My dear please don't insult me." Rosamund replied in a simple tone forcing Mary to shut up. "No, it's inevitable that I have come to the end of a long and – reasonable existence." She dabbed at her eye with her handkerchief, "And soon I shall be with my dear Marmaduke again. But as you all very well know, we never had any children of our own and you know how much I always longed for a daughter." She reached out a gnarled hand and caressed Georgina's face. "Which is why I arranged a meeting with my solicitor yesterday and changed my will so that all of this – the houses – both of them, Eaton and Belgrave Square, my money and everything Marmaduke left me, will go to -"

The door flung open and Benjamin tumbled into the room, gasping for breath, his face red with determination and excitement, "Mama! Papa was on the phone from the station and he's coming here!"

"Benjamin Daniel Crawley!" Rosamund hissed, her dislike for the little boy only increasing, "It's very rude to interrupt when adults are conversing!"

Georgina slipped her hand out of Rosmaund's grasp, both her and Mary's attention were fully focused on Benjamin.

"What do you mean Papa's coming here?" Mary asked sharply, "When did he call you?"

"Just now! I picked up the phone and he told me to bring you and Georgie into a bunker!" Benjamin tugged on his mother's hand, "Mama come on!"

"Well, that's just typical!" Rosamund huffed, "I'm trying to tell you something of the utmost importance and Matthew Crawley snaps his fingers and you all go running!"

"Oh really Aunt Rosamund! Papa wouldn't have called us if it wasn't urgent!" Georgina replied, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. She turned back to her brother and said gently, "Benji, what do you mean get us to a bunker?"

Benjamin opened his mouth but never received the chance to tell her.

At that precise moment a deafening sound, brasher than the angriest of all thunders erupted outside. But - the people inside 145 Eaton Square never even had the chance to register their shock, for a deep crack spread quickly through the ceiling, splitting it into two while chunks of plaster and dust rained onto them, the walls wavering and shaking.

Instinctively, Mary pushed Georgina and Benjamin away, saving them from a tumbling brick which caught her on the temple instead, knocking her into a state of unconsciousness. She barely heard the horrific scream of 'Mama!' tear from her daughter's throat when the entire house enveloped them in a prison of debris, crumbling to the ground.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	36. Snow White

**Author's Note:**Okay... first of all huge apologies for not updating sooner but you see - well - the thing is, I started writing this chapter literally the day after watching 3x05 (I'm not giving anything away) and I had to channel all my bundle of feels so it ended up really, really depressing. But I have since pulled myself together and basically deleted everything I wrote and started this one from scratch. And I figured you wouldn't mind seeing as I'd rather take the time and get it right as supposed to rush it. (Also, Uni is still on my case.)

Anwaaay - this chapter deals with the aftermath of the explosion. Also, there's some introduction to the Polish Air Force joining the RAF (as they did) and the next chapter will be the climax of the Battle of Britain which will not be a disappointment.

So read it and tell me what you think x

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 36 – Snow White<span>**

Tiny sprinkles of dust drizzled onto Mary's face. She groaned softly, jerking her head in recognition as the consciousness dripped back into her. She tried to move her legs but she couldn't, it felt trapped under something… Mary blinked herself awake, the stench of damp, stale wood struck her instantly. It was dark, so very dark. Mary tried to turn but she couldn't, bits of debris were holding her in place. She tried to turn the other way but found herself being stifled by a cushion which was strapped to her abdomen. For a fleeting second she wondered why on Earth she had a pillow up there… and then she started to remember, Rebecca's face wavered into her mind as it reeled in confusion.

Was Rebecca here?

What had even happened?

Where was she?

Images of crumbling walls and tumbling bricks came screaming into her memory, with a jolt of horror Mary remembered pushing her children out of the way, Georgina's scream echoing in her ears before everything went black. The house had collapsed on them! Her children! Oh God where were her children?

"Benjamin! Georgina!" She choked in panic, her throat clotted with dust, "Benjamin! Georgina can you hear me? Say something please!" Fat tears leaked from Mary's eyes, her head felt so very heavy yet she forced it a few inches off the ground, allowing the dizziness to swim. She needed to know that her children were alive. "Oh God, help! Please help!"

"Mary!"

Mary released a gasp of shock, her eyes flicked towards the source of the voice she knew so well.

"Matth - Matthew!" She coughed, a morsel of relief flooding through her.

"Oh Mary thank God!" He breathed. She heard him shouting to someone, "She's alive! She's down there!" There was a fumble of movement and a small crack of light as people started to clear away the debris. "Mary, I'm here. Can you hear me? Are you hurt? Can you move?"

"Yes - a little - and no. But Matthew - listen- where are the - children?" Mary wheezed, the dust becoming firmly lodged in her throat making in even harder for her to talk. "Are - they with – you?"

Matthew's gravid silence forced her panic to accelerate.

"Matthew?" She prompted, terror seeping into her voice.

"I – I thought they would be with you?" The horror embedded in her husband's voice drove all thoughts of her own survival clean out of Mary's mind. All thoughts were focused directly on her babies.

"No, no, no." The whimper broke free from her lips, she tried to move her legs but she was obviously trapped.

"Mary, where were -"

"Matthew just find them get them out!" She ordered through gritted teeth, her hands clenching into tight fists at her sides. She didn't care how concussed she might be, she'd fight to the death if it meant getting her children out alive. "Forget me and find them! You know how scared Benji will be, he hates the dark!" The tears started to burn her eyes once more.

"I know, I know." Matthew replied, his voice trembling. Mary knew he was trying to keep it together for her sake but she could tell that he was inches away from falling apart, just like she was.

"What about Rosamund where is she?" Matthew asked.

"I don't know." Mary muttered, "We've all - fallen through the floor."

"All right." Matthew said quickly, "Just keep holding on darling. I'll find the children I promise."

Whether it had been an hour or two, Lady Mary Crawley lay buried under a mound of rubble with her children and her aunt and who knows how many servants. The flicker of hope she held in finding her children were dying with each passing second. She could do nothing except stare helplessly into the sliver of light, listening in sheer agony to the sound of her husband screaming for their children, his voice accelerating into hysteria when no one replied.

Then she heard it. The shuffling sound near the corner of her head. Immediately, her first thought was rats, but then she heard the soft moans of a frightened little boy. Her frightened little boy.

"Benjamin?" She rasped, hardly daring to hope, "Benji is that you?"

"Mama?" Benjamin cheeped.

Relief like no other, flooded every inch of her body, she closed her eyes in thanks before turning her attention back to her son. "Oh darling are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"Mama, my leg is stuck and I can't move." Benjamin whispered hoarsely. "I heard Papa calling us but I couldn't call back. My voice feels funny. I'm scared -"

"I know darling, just hold on." Mary soothed, wishing she could just break free and save him. "Darling, is Georgina with you?"

"Yes."

Mary's head twitched at the trepidation behind Benjamin's voice. "Benji?"

"Georgina's lying in front of me Mama." He replied quietly, "She isn't moving and she has blood all over her face."

* * *

><p><strong><em>September 8th 1940<em>**

**_1:10am_**

_Joseph couldn't move. He was stuck in his Spitfire trying to break through the canopy, flames creeping up the side while he watched in horror as the Nazi flag tumbled down the front of Big Ben, marking their territory over the whole country…_

"Joe? Joe?"

Hands grasped his arm, shaking him roughly. Joseph batted the hand away, "Let go of me you damn Nazi!" He yelled.

"Joe it's Frederick!"

Joseph's eyes flew open. Where was he? Oh, he wasn't in his Spit. He was in his bunk, safe and sound. He rolled his head to the side, Frederick and Dominic were both staring at him with looks of complete apprehension and fear glistening in their eyes. Joseph clapped a trembling hand over his eyes in humiliation and murmured, "How long was I asleep for?"

"Not that long. About twenty minutes give or take." Dominic answered softly. "Are you all right?"

"It's strange." Joseph said quietly, "During all these battles, all this waiting and fighting, all I want to do is sleep. But when I do, all I keep thinking, all I keep dreaming about is – what's going to happen if we lose this fight?"

"You mustn't think like that." Frederick said firmly, he pushed a cup of tea into his hands, "Now get some of that down you. I know you're worried about your family but the only thing we can do right now is our jobs."

Joseph took a deep breath, clutching the warm cup in his hands. He had been frantically trying to call home since the second he arrived back at Biggin Hill but no one answered the phone, not even Cutler. He only wanted to know if their friends and family up in London were all right, yet the ominous response he received sent a sharp chill down his neck and he just couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"Drink up Downton." Dominic urged, "You need all the caffeine you can get. I have a horrid feeling that we're going to get called back tonight."

Joseph shook his head in response and brought the cup of tea to his lips, savouring the warm liquid. "Night flights are the worst. I've already been shot down once today and ran out of fuel! I don't fancy trying to land a plane in the middle of the night!"

"Yes." Frederick said with a shudder, "That was awful."

"I kept an eye out for you though." Dominic said with a small smile, "Just to make sure your parachute worked – and you made the jump safely."

Joseph returned the smile gratefully. "Well, I'd do the same for either of you, for anyone in our Squadron. Speaking of which, how are the Polish chaps getting along?"

"Very well actually." Frederick answered with a raised brow, as if he were surprised by the admission, "I mean, they do have a little difficulty taking orders from our men, seeing as they can't speak much English so the communication is a little strained."

"That's understandable." Joseph said simply. "I'm sure they'll adjust in time."

"Well I don't care if they're Polish, Russian or Czech, so long as they can fly properly and give us a little break." Dominic said in a clipped voice. He drained his teacup and left it at that.

Joseph shifted back onto his bunk, lying on his back and just staring at the ceiling. His eyelids grew heavier and his tense muscles were finally starting to relax a little, his eyes gradually started to close…

A sharp knock at the door jolted him out of his sleepy stupor. Joseph bolted upright in alarm. "What's going on? Do we have to go?"

Wing Commander Bradley Shields swiftly entered the room, staring at Joseph with a hard gaze mixed with sympathy. "Flight Lieutenant Crawley. Air Marshal King wants to see you in his office forthwith."

Joseph exchanged a brief glance with the others before sighing, "He's probably just going to scold me about damaging the Spitfire." He traipsed out of his bunk and headed towards the familiar office. Taking a collected breath, Joseph knocked twice on the door.

"Enter."

Joseph adjusted his cap, straightened up and pushed the door open, wondering with some trepidation if he really was in for a reprimand about the Spitfire.

"Ah Flight Lieutenant Crawley." Air Marshal King greeted with a tight and very forced smile. "Do – do come in."

Joseph saluted in respect and strode into the office, his intimidation accelerating from the look on King's face.

"I am sorry to have to drag you out in the middle of the night but I'm afraid this really can't wait." He said with hesitancy.

"Oh?" Joseph swallowed over the lump of panic rising in his throat, "Nothing too serious I hope?"

"Well - I'll cut straight to the point – Flight Lieutenant Crawley." King said quietly, now avoiding all eye contact with the young Pilot. "Now, I'm sure you're aware of the bombing up in London earlier this evening." Joseph nodded stiffly. "And I'm told that you were trying to get in touch with your family."

Joseph shifted on the spot, his mind racing with the direction of this conversation but he willed himself not to panic. "Yes sir it's true. I was trying to contact them at Croydon Airport and then again when I arrived back here, but there seemed to be no reply."

Air Marshal King shuffled uncomfortably, "Yes well, Flight Lieutenant Crawley there's something you should know. About your sister."

Joseph stayed rooted to the spot. His sister… Oh God, something had happened to Rebecca or the baby? Or both! That was why no one was answering….

"My sister?" He choked, "Has – has something happened to Rebecca, is she all right?"

Air Marshal King frowned, his lips parting in confusion and sorrow. "No Flight Lieutenant Crawley – it's not Lady Rebecca it's your other sister Lady Georgina. I'm afraid to relay that something terrible has occurred."

* * *

><p><strong><em>February 24th 1922<em>**

_Mary saw Matthew from the corner of her eye as he gently nudged the door of their bedroom open with his elbow, all the while trying to support his new-born daughter who was sleeping peacefully in his arms, the daughter he had quickly fallen in love with. Mary couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He had already spent more time with their daughter than she had. She had been the first one to hold Joseph yet the last one to hold her daughter._

_"Mary are you ready to see our daughter?" Matthew asked tenderly, perching at the end of the bed._

_Mary shifted herself up onto the pillows, wincing in mild pain. She held out her arms, "Yes I'm ready. Let me see her."_

_Matthew carefully passed their baby girl into Mary's ready arms. She drew a sharp breath as she stared at her daughter – she was the most beautiful little creature she had ever seen!_

_"Oh she's perfect!" Mary breathed with a teary smile, stroking her petal-soft cheek with her thumb. "She's absolutely adorable!"_

_"I think she looks just like you." Matthew said softly, watching his wife with their daughter through loving eyes._

_Mary swallowed, her eyes glancing from her baby to her husband and back again. "Well – let's hope that's all."_

_Matthew noted the apprehension laced in her voice and furrowed his brow a little but did not press the matter. He supposed she was just tired. "I thought you weren't going to make it." He said hoarsely, biting hard on his lip to stop it from trembling. _

_Mary pretended to scoff, "And leave our children without a mother? No, I don't think so." She shot him a thin smile, "You're stuck with me for the long-haul!"_

_Matthew laughed, "Good!"_

_"But - in all honesty. Thank you Matthew." Mary sniffed, clutching her baby closer and nuzzling her soft, dark brown hair._

_"For what my darling?"_

_"For keeping her safe." She replied with a sad smile. "When I couldn't."_

Lady Mary Crawley sat alone amongst the bustling hospital, her hands clasped tightly together as if she were uttering a desperate prayer. She had grown so used to hiding her true emotions from the world it was always a puzzle for anyone to try and discover what it was she was really thinking. For years into their marriage, even Matthew had found it a difficulty, but as the years drifted on and their children grew up, he became the thaw to her ice.

But now as Mary gazed upon her eldest daughter, her beautiful darling Georgina who was lying rigidly atop the narrow bed with her ebony hair fanned out upon the pillow, her face drained of all colour and her eyes fixed shut, Mary finally felt that her stoic demeanour would snap. She slid her hand across the starchy sheets so she could clasp her daughter's hand, running her thumb along her dainty fingertips.

"Oh my darling." She whispered through quivering lips, "I am so, so very sorry." A lone teardrop meandered down her cheek but she didn't even realize. The pain was too numbing.

She felt him long before she saw him. He scooted his chair towards Georgina's bed and caressed her cheek with tenderness.

"How's Benjamin?" Mary asked blandly.

Matthew flicked his head towards her in recognition, "Mother's watching over him, he's – fast asleep." He swallowed hard. "His ankle wasn't broken, just a sprain thank God."

Mary nodded mechanically. "Thank God."

They lapsed into silence, whether it be for ten minutes or fifty all they could do was just stare at their beautiful, beautiful daughter, who now resembled the epitome of Snow White. Finally, Mary shattered the fragile silence with her tearful voice of blame. "I should've stayed with them."

Matthew allowed his eyes to flutter shut in weariness or pain, whichever it was he couldn't tell. Nevertheless, he shook his head and said with as much sincerity as he could muster, "No, it wasn't your fault. You weren't the one who…" His voice cracked, his throat completely blocked with the overriding emotion of pure guilt. It was his entire fault.

Flashes of the past twenty-four hours streaked through his mind. Finding the deteriorated house his family were buried under, scrambling through the wreckage to get to them only to be forced back and ordered to wait, hearing Mary – his darling wife's voice begging him to keep their children safe, Benjamin being fished out from the smoking rubble, his leg twisted in an L-shaped angle and his little face contorted with agony. Then they lifted Georgina out, her body already limp and lifeless like a ragdoll while blood trickled from her head –

Matthew scrunched his hands into tight fists, longing to pound at the wall until his knuckles bled. Oh if he had only gone with them or had forbidden them from going at all! Then his beloved daughter wouldn't be lying completely motionless in front of his eyes right now!

"Mama? Papa?"

Mary's head snapped towards the sound of her darling son. Two navy blue figures marched down the slim corridor, Joseph in the lead with Dominic trailing close behind him. Mary held out her hand to her son which he grasped affectionately. He clapped his father on the shoulder and then halted beside Georgina's bed, his blue eyes growing wide with trepidation. "Oh God," He rasped, "Is she…?"

"No." Matthew answered swiftly, "She's not dead." His eyes drifted towards her peaceful face, "She's just fast asleep. The doctors say it's likely that she'll pull through soon. Just until the swelling in her brain heals."

Joseph breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank God for that." He whipped off his cap and dropped into the seat next to his father.

Dominic stared down at the girl he was falling in love with, his green eyes clouding in shock.

"Dominic would you like to sit down?" Mary asked the young man politely.

He shook his head slowly, "I'd prefer to stand, thank you Lady Grantham."

Matthew's eyes softened in compassion at the tortured look gleaming in Dominic's eyes. In order to distract himself, he turned to his son. "So, how did you know we were here?"

"The Air Marshal called me into his office and told me that you were in London today and that Georgina had taken a bad blow to the head because the house had collapsed in the bomb, which you and Benji were also in." Joseph replied in a hush, "I can't believe you all went up there! Have you not learned anything?"

Matthew pursed his lips so tightly they turned white. Mary straightened up sharply, "It wasn't your father's fault. It was entirely mine. I was the one who brought Georgina and Benji to London."

"You didn't know there was going to be a bomb." Dominic said thinly, "We didn't ourselves until it had actually happened. As you can imagine, the RAF Squadrons near the city are in chaos."

"Well I was in Warlingham Village." Joseph said without thinking, "I heard the church bells go off and that was when I knew what had happened."

"Why were you in Warlingham Village?" Matthew asked with a frown. Joseph just gave him a pointed look. Matthew sucked in a sharp breath and turned away, knowing full well why his son had been tottering around a village near his Squadron. But he was far too exhausted to go into all that now.

Joseph examined his hands for a while before asking tentatively, "What happened to Aunt Rosamund?"

Matthew exchanged a haunted glance with Mary. He turned to his son and said in a tight whisper, "She didn't make it son. Neither did Mr Fulton."

Joseph's face morphed into sorrow, he dropped his head in his hands. "Oh God." He might not have had the greatest opinion of his great-aunt but he certainly didn't wish that on her. On anyone.

The minutes ticked on in occupied silence, the only noise was that of the heels of the nurses clicking on the floor or the occasional cough of a patient. The steady rise and fall of Georgina's chest was the only indication that she was still clinging onto life. Otherwise she could have easily been mistaken for a corpse. Easily. Dominic's lips parted and he voiced the one haunted thought which invaded everyone's mind, whenever they set eyes upon Georgina's slumbering form.

"She looks just like Snow White." He whispered, "If only a kiss would wake her up." As if realising the true intent behind his words, Dominic Hamilton straightened up in a nervous fluster, muttering his sincere apologies and bolting out of the Wing, leaving the rest of the family to stare after him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>September 10th 1940<strong>_

Matthew hadn't left his daughter's side. He couldn't. Mary and his mother had taken Benjamin back to the Savoy so he could rest, Isobel had offered to stay with him but he waved her away. He wanted to be alone with his daughter.

Ever since this damn war started it rained nothing but hell on his family. What was he supposed to do? Joseph had been right. This war was much, much more destructive than the first one. He felt the chair scrape back next to him. His head twitched in response, he knew who it was and he was grateful that he was here.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Matthew asked wryly, still keeping his eyes on his daughter, "I should think you'd want to spend your leave catching up on some sleep."

Joseph released a tired chuckle, "I just wanted to make sure my sister's all right, and bring you a clean shirt. Then I think I'll head back home, see Grandmama and Rebecca of course."

Matthew nodded automatically, "Of course. Just make sure you're not seen."

"Papa does she even know?" Joseph asked in a hush, scooting his chair closer.

Matthew rubbed his unshaven face, "Your grandmother said that worrying her would only bring stress to the baby -"

Joseph's mouth fell open, "So she doesn't even know!"

"Keep your voice down!" Matthew snapped, glancing around the ward to check no one was earwigging. "I don't like it any more than you – but – right now…I'm actually quite glad that Rebecca wasn't with them." He felt his eyes burn with unshed tears, "Otherwise who knows what else would've -"

"I know Papa!" Joseph said swiftly, clapping his father on the back, "I know."

"Does that sound selfish of me?"

"No it doesn't." Joseph answered with firmness. "If you've been through what I've been through during the past month, nothing sounds selfish!"

Matthew pursed his lips and nodded. He shot his son a furtive glance before asking in what he hoped was a casual manner, "So, I assume you were shot down yesterday."

Joseph closed his eyes in brief exasperation before replying calmly, "Yes Papa I was - well actually I had run out of fuel and then I was shot down. But it's all right!" He added quickly, "I made the escape."

Matthew nodded swiftly. "By escape you mean jumping out of the plane before it crashed?" His voice was growing tighter and tighter with every word. Joseph noticed this. He didn't know how to answer truthfully without causing more worry.

"I had a parachute." He said quietly.

"And what if it doesn't work? Or it's broken?" Matthew shot back, striking at a fear Joseph harboured in his own heart. "What then Joe hmm?" He turned his tortured gaze back to his daughter and gently ran his thumb over her hand, "Maybe you should think about that before you make your next suicide leap."

Joseph's eyes turned cold, "If it wasn't for that suicide leap I would probably have burnt to death!" He hissed.

Matthew flinched. Joseph instantly regretted the harsh retort and heaved a heavy sigh, "Look Papa, I don't want to fight about it. Especially not here. We'll never see eye to eye on this so it's really no point talking about it."

"It's not about - I just don't like the idea of you up there - it's vulnerable." Matthew said through clenched teeth.

"Well, it's all part of the job isn't it?" Joseph said cautiously, "I'm sure you remember what it was like."

"I was never jumping out of planes." Matthew replied curtly.

"No, but you were still a Captain in the British Army," Joseph said steadily, carefully watching his father, "Just like I was. And now I'm a Flight Lieutenant in the RAF and I'm needed. I really am, Papa, God if only you knew..."

Matthew flicked his eyes towards his son, saying in a voice laced with compassion, "I'm glad that you're embracing the modern approach to this war Joe. I don't know what I would've done if we had the kind of technology you have. This war is much, much different than the first. I never thought that the country would be shaken up as much as it was after the first war but, clearly I was wrong."

Joseph gave him a crooked smile. "Papa, you never really talk about the first war."

Matthew suddenly stiffened. "It's never really something I want to talk about. It took away four years of my life - and much more." He cleared his throat and shuffled uncomfortably, praying that Joe would just leave it at that. He didn't of course.

"But you were still there. You were still a part of it." Joseph said softly. "When we were children, Edward, Tommy and I always used to play soldiers, pretending we were off to war."

"And I always told you not to." Matthew added in a wary tone.

"We just did it anyway," Joseph responded dismissively, "But the point is - it's all real now and... I still don't know how I feel about it."

Matthew opened his mouth to answer -

"Joe? Papa?"

Both father and son snapped their heads toward the sound of the tiny croak from the bed beside them. Matthew's hand shot out immediately, grabbing his daughter's limp hand. "Oh Georgina darling thank God you're awake!" He beamed at her, "You had us all so worried princesss!"

Joseph smiled in relief, "So, Snow White has finally awoken! How are you feeling Georgie?"

Georgina didn't return the smile. Her cerulean eyes clouded in terror as she squirmed uncomfortably under the sheets. "Papa," She choked, her voice wavering on a petrified whisper, "Papa – I can't… I can't…"

The smile slipped off Matthew's face, "What is it?" He asked soberly, "Darling what's wrong?"

Georgina turned towards him with quivering lips, her eyes glistening with tears. "Papa, I can't feel my legs."

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	37. Phase Three

**Author's Note:**Hey everyone, thanks for all the reviews! I gotta start by saying that I have an assignment coming up - actually two so I don't know when I'm gonna update next so I've left this chapter open to be continued on immediately in Ch.38 because otherwise it would've been tooo long and a lot happens in this chap.

So this chapter - Throws us right into Georgina's condition (bear with it) and tell me what you think of her new career choice yay or neigh. And we havea tommy/Mary scene as well as a lot of Joseph.

So enjoy and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 37 – Phase Three<strong>

_Probable spinal damage._

Matthew was deaf to the sound of his own voice screaming for Dr Valentine, while he swarmed the bed and started examining Georgina, it was just three words that kept him glued to his seat the entire time.

_Probable spinal damage._

Those three words bounced themselves gleefully around Matthew's brain, taunting him of his past injury, the one he was so sure he could just forget. Never had he felt so helpless, so wretched and utterly, utterly wrecked. But now… now as he stared down at his darling girl, his baby girl, her face contorted with panic as she was rendered helpless, something much more than wretchedness and misery coursed through his mind. All of a sudden he was struck with a much brazen feeling – wrath.

Wrath at Britain for declaring war on Germany twenty-six years ago!

Wrath at Hitler for starting - well all of this because of the first war and his own personal vendetta against the Jews!

Wrath at the Lufftwaffe for attacking their beloved city!

And most of all, wrath at himself for not being the husband and father his family needed during the one time when they needed him the most!

Matthew thought it had been a true blessing when he found out he could walk again but now the same cruel fate had snatched his daughter! His darling, his princess - his rock! Georgina. What had she ever done to anyone to deserve this? She was a strong yet wonderful girl who always brought out the very best in her brash and stubborn brothers and showed solid support towards her sister at a time when no one else would. So why did she have to suffer? And what was she supposed to be paying for? Matthew wished with all his heart that he could switch places with her. Yes, he'd do it, he'd choose that life in a heartbeat if it meant Georgina didn't have to!

He could've broken down then and there. But the strong hand clamped firmly on his shoulder forced him to remain calm in his seat. "Just wait to hear what the doctors have to say Papa." Joseph said in a tight voice.

Matthew gave him a stiff nod and turned his attention back onto Dr Valentine. "What's wrong doctor?"

The young doctor slung his stethoscope around his neck and shot the Earl a reassuring smile, "You don't have to worry Lord Grantham. Georgina is suffering a temporary paralysis due to the shock she's just recieved. It's really quite common."

Surprise forced Matthew speechless. He could do nothing but gape at the young doctor.

"You said temporary," Joseph pointed out quickly, "Are you sure? She will definitely be able to walk again won't she?"

"I don't see why not?" Dr Valentine responded with a smile. "When we examined her after she was brought in, we didn't spot any permanent damage to the spine. The blow to the head wasn't as hard as we initially feared so we didn't have any anxieties about permanent paralysis."

Matthew tried to swallow his panic as the doctor's words sunk in. "Right. Well, that's comforting." He choked.

"It feels as if my legs have been dipped in icy water." Georgina said in a bland voice.

"So when will she be able to feel again Dr Valentine?" Matthew asked, shooting his daughter a worried look.

The doctor shifted uncomfortably, "As to that I cannot say precisely Milord but the feeling should return once the initial shock has worn off." He turned to Georgina who was just staring miserably at the ceiling, "Now Lady Georgina – you might experience some pain when the feeling returns but it's a good kind of pain. Also, you'll need regular visits from your local doctor to check your progress."

"No problem." Matthew said rapidly, "He's known Georgina since she was a little girl, I'm sure he'd be willing to contribute."

Dr Valentine frowned slightly at the frostiness laced within the Earl's tone but he merely wrote it off as fatherly anxiousness. He turned his attention back to the young lady, "Do you have any questions?"

"No. But thank you doctor." Georgina said quietly. After the doctor bustled off, she took a few deep breaths to allow her sudden anxiety rush to ebb away. Finally, she turned to her father with a cracked smile, "At least it's not temporary. Let us cling to that at least."

"I think we need a second opinion." Matthew muttered through clenched teeth. The worries and fears still lingered in the back of his mind, poking him tauntingly.

"Papa!" Joseph chided, shooting a quick glance at the doctor who was thankfully tending to a patient further down the ward and out of earshot.

"What?" Matthew shot back, "I don't think that doctor knows what he's talking about, he's twelve!"

"Papa," Georgina interrupted sternly, "Please stop talking. My head's spinning!"

"Oh, my darling girl." Matthew breathed, stroking his daughter's ebony curls, "You are so brave. Do you know that? You're my little storm braver."

Georgina chuckled softly, then her eyes suddenly clouded with fear, "Mama! Oh God she was hit by a brick!"

"Take it easy Georgie," Matthew ordered gently, "Your mother is fine. She just received a mild concussion that's all. She's taken Benjamin back to the hotel to get some sleep but she should be back soon."

"So Benji's all right too? They both are?" Georgina asked, relief washing over her like a soothing balm. "Oh thank goodness!"

Matthew shrugged, "Well, he has a sprained leg – but that's all!" He added firmly as her eyes widened.

"He's quite the tough little champion. Even Churchill would've been pleased with the way he handled himself." Joseph said with a warm smile which wavered slightly, "He was the one who stayed with you until the ambulance pulled you out."

Georgina heaved a sigh of despair, "Oh poor darling. How is he really?"

"I'm sure - he'll be thrilled now you're awake," Joseph said swiftly, trying to cover up his hesitancy with a smile. "So will Mama."

"And what about you Joe?" Georgina asked in all seriousness, "How is everything going? Or is it all RAF classified information?"

"Well, I can say that I shot down six enemy planes yesterday." Joseph said with a dismissive wave.

Georgina's face twitched into a mock reproof, "Oh, only six?" Joseph just shrugged with a smirk, "You must be losing your heroic touch Joe."

Matthew cleared his throat loudly but said nothing. Joseph's smirk slid off his face.

Georgina settled herself back against the pillows and gazed at her brother, "Tell me Joe – what is it like to fly in the sky? Describe it to me, please." There was a trace of longing in her voice.

A thoughtful yet dreamy expression graced the young heir's face and when he spoke his voice was smothered with a fond caress. "Well, the cockpit is rather cramped when you climb in. But then once you're in the air… you don't really need to think, it's almost as if the aircraft has a life of its own! You're operating the controls but really it's you and the Spitfire together. That's why it's always hard whenever we lose one. It feels as if we've lost one of our own – in a way I suppose we have."

"Do you think maybe after the war is over, you could take me for a ride?" Georgina asked hopefully.

Joseph released a tired chortle, "After the war is over? Let's just take it one day at a time eh? I'm still having a tough time trying to get this one," He clasped his disgruntled father's shoulder, "To agree for a quick flight. I promised him it would be perfectly safe but of course he doesn't trust me." Joseph added with a twinkle in his eye.

"It isn't that!" Matthew responded in a clipped voice. "It's just – I have flown in a plane before."

Joseph snorted, "That was what? Fifteen, sixteen years ago? Planes have developed a lot more since then!"

"Regardless you're still in the air aren't you? Away from the safety of the ground…" Matthew sidled a sheepish glimpse at his son, Georgina had to bite on her lip to stop herself from laughing.

A wide grin started to leak across Joseph's face, "Papa are you afraid of heights?"

"Certainly not!" Matthew huffed. "I just prefer the safer method of ground travel, that's my opinion am I not entitled to it?"

"Oh of course," Joseph replied in mock seriousness, "I'm just at a loss as to how we can defeat a whole army of Luftwaffe with cars."

"Your sarcasm doesn't do you much credit son." Matthew responded tetchily.

"Do you think maybe I could be a Pilot?" Georgina asked with hilarity.

Joseph reacted to her question. She meant it as a joke, an innocent form of banter but it stuck a very sharp cord with him. "Actually Georgie that's not such a bad idea." He answered in a hush, his mind whirring with possibilities.

Matthew whipped around to glare at him, "What?" He spat incredulously.

"I said it's not such a bad idea." Joseph repeated absently, his blue eyes growing wide with excitement.

"Joe, I – I see you thinking." Matthew said tensely, "Whatever you're thinking stop it!"

"What are you thinking Joe?" Georgina asked, shifting against her pillows and staring at her brother with anticipation. "Oh do tell!"

"Or just keep it to yourself!" Matthew interpolated with warily.

"The Air Transport Auxilary," Joseph started with enthusiasm, "They train and recruit women Pilots for jobs like transporting military equipment from factories to maintenance units, etcetera!"

"Well that won't make her a target!" Matthew said, the sarcasm running freely off his tongue. "Ferrying military equipment?"

"It's been perfectly safe so far!" Joseph replied with defiance, "And she could do it too!"

"You know when my legs have healed; I actually think I might volunteer!" Georgina said with firm eagerness.

"All right, let's not overexcite her." Matthew interjected in a fluster, throwing an irked glance at his son from over his shoulder, "Georgina you heard the doctor you're supposed to be resting!"

"Papa I think I have had quite enough rest don't you?" Georgina responded in a clipped voice, "Besides, I want to know what's going on in the war. And if these air battles are coming to an end anytime soon."

Joseph laughed, "No such luck there. We're still fighting stronger than ever. He glanced at his watch and whistled, "Speaking of which I have to get back to base now," He addressed his father, "But I'll drop into the Savoy on my way? Tell Mama and Granny the good news and update them on Georgie's progress?"

"Only that she's awake, not that she's planning to jump into a plane the minute she recovers," Matthew said sternly, "We don't need to worry your mother anymore. She'll already be panicking about Georgina's condition. And telephone Downton as well. I'm sure your Grandmama and the rest of the servants are eager to hear of Georgie's recovery," Matthew added with a smile.

The young Pilot nodded and proceeded to leave but was called back by his sister's worried voice. "Be careful Joe."

Joseph halted, spinning on his heel to face her. With a heartening smile gracing his lips, he lifted up his two fingers in a V shape.

Churchill's victory sign.

Despite the tidal wave of emotions that had engulfed him within the past few minutes, Matthew couldn't help the proud grin from seeping onto his face as did Georgina. Joseph burst out laughing and marched towards the exit, shaking his head in amusement.

* * *

><p><em><strong>September 12<strong>__**th**__** 1940**_

Lady Mary Crawley absently fiddled with the napkin on her lap while she gazed around the Savoy tearoom in ire. The whole room was pulsating with the life of the rich and famous. Urbane men and their sophisticated lady companions reclined in their cushioned armchairs, elegantly sipping tea and nibbling on scones or cakes from a three tier tray whilst discussing the latest 'tragedy' arisen from the London Blitz, trying and failing miserably to undertake the required look of sympathy and concern. But really it was all just gossip for them, a source of enjoyment to keep them entertained throughout teatime. Mary could just tell by the mere look in the eyes of these women. None of them had experienced the pain that she had. Of course people used their faces like a mask to hide their inner anguish but their eyes – yes, the eyes always betray the truth. And these people's eyes were nothing than mere orbs of triviality.

While Mary observed them all indulge in tea and luxurious food which could feed a whole country village, she felt an overwhelming urge to grab these women by the neat hair and slam their faces into their expensive cakes. But of course she was a Lady and such behaviour was not warranted, not even in wartime. Her hands clenched the napkin tightly, twisting uncomfortably in her seat. Barely three months had passed since her son had been shot, nearly left for dead at Dunkirk and now her daughter had temporary paralysis. Oh, how the heavens must hate her! Of course she should have been exceedingly grateful that it wasn't permanent, a fact that Matthew and Isobel forcefully kept reminding her. Yet… the 'what if' always chilled her to the bone. Georgina may be eighteen, but she was still her little girl.

Mary was so absorbed in her own grief, she didn't notice the gentle hand that touched her shoulder in recognition.

"Aunt Mary?" Mary jumped in alarm at the sudden touch. She turned around quickly to see her young nephew grinning at her. "I thought it was you!"

"Oh, Tommy!" She beamed in welcome at the young man who tipped his hat in respect. "What are you doing here?"

Tommy's smile wavered slightly but he clung onto his decorum, saying smoothly, "I have a meeting with friends."

Mary glanced around the tearoom with an amused look, "Here?"

"They're quite important friends." He replied evenly, "But I'm afraid I'm rather early."

"Oh. Well, in that case won't you sit down and have a cup of tea with your dear aunt?" Mary suggested with a raised brow, indicating the vacant chair opposite her. Tommy eyed the chair with hesitation but Mary was not one to give up, "Oh go on Tommy!" She implored playfully, "I really could use some cheering up and fresh conversation. And we do have so much to catch up on."

Her nephew tilted his head in amusement and sighed, "We do don't we. Oh all right, maybe just a few minutes."

While Tommy settled himself in his seat and busied himself with the tea, Mary seized the brief opportunity to admire her nephew and the way he had sharpened up these past few years. Tommy and Siobhan had always been close with her children and they in turn had always treated them like their own siblings.

"How's Georgina?" Tommy asked in genuine concern, "Temporary paralysis isn't it? I heard about what happened from Joe. He still keeps me informed from time to time."

"She's surprisingly tough given the circumstances." Mary replied with a small yet fond smile, "She's determined not to let it stop her from carrying on though."

Tommy's face fell slightly, "He also told me about Aunt Rosamund. I never really knew her that well but it's such a tragic way to go."

Mary felt her throat tighten at the memory, "Yes it is rather tragic. They said that her heart just…couldn't take it anymore."

"And I also heard that Biggin Hill was hit last night?" Tommy continued, his eyes wide with curiosity, "That's where Joe's squadron is based isn't it?"

Mary sucked in a sharp breath. "Biggin Hill yes. But thankfully he had the good sense to call and let us know he was all right. Apparently he had been asleep when the bombs were dropped…" She shuffled anxiously in her seat, eager to shift the focus away from her son, "Anyway it wasn't just Biggin Hill, a lot of the neighbouring airfields were hit."

"I'm sorry am I making you uncomfortable Aunt Mary?" Tommy asked nervously, noting her sudden stoic countenance.

Mary just smiled. "You're a darling. No you're not." She felt a warm flutter in her heart as she watched him relax. He might look just like his father but he was very much the embodiment of her little sister in spirit.

"So tell me Tommy – why are you no longer in the army?" Mary asked, injecting her voice with indifference although her mind was burning with curiosity.

Tommy paused, the cup halfway to his lips. He forced a nervous laugh out before replying, "I was injured. And they didn't want me back."

"Nothing too serious I hope?" Mary responded in concern.

Again Tommy just shrugged while he sipped at his tea, "Nothing that will persuade Papa to see reason."

"I see." Mary slowly lifted her own cup to her lips while they both lapsed into nostalgic silence.

They had all been close once. Tommy and Siobhan always used to be in and out of Downton during Summer, Easter and Christmas, but in the years leading up to the war, politics and opinions had once again divided the family. Mary liked Branson very much but his stubborn attitude towards his beliefs affected his children much more than he cared to realize. When she had politely pointed this out to him, he took it rather offensively. They hadn't stopped speaking to each other per say, but Branson felt that Ireland's neutrality was something that should be commended whereas Matthew had merely refused to comment on the matter which only wounded Branson more. Sybil and Mary tried to bridge the peace between them but it wouldn't hold. Not just yet anyway.

Which is why when young Tommy Branson decided to join up on his own accord, it would've made perfect sense for his father to be irked by the gesture, but Mary just could not see him cutting his own son out of his life.

"Tommy," Mary started before she could stop herself, "I know you hate talking about it but really, I have to ask," She took a deep breath while Tommy collected himself together, "What could you have possibly done to anger your father so much so, he had to throw you out of his life?"

Tommy's eyes narrowed into cold slits, "Nothing. Listen to me Aunt Mary, I have not done anything wrong. You know as well as anyone that all my life, my father has taught me to stand up for what I believe in and that is exactly what I am doing now. He's just upset because those beliefs don't coincide with his!" He released a bitter chortle and nearly slammed down his cup, "Well bully for him!"

"And those beliefs are what exactly?" Mary asked warily.

"I just want to contribute my services to the war effort." Tommy answered steadily, "Because I want to fight on my mother's behalf. She is still English is she not?"

"Oh Tommy." Mary sighed, her voice drenched with sympathy, "I've spoken to your mother."

At these words, the aggression behind Tommy's eyes melted into that of longing. "You – you've spoken to Ma?" His voice was soft, almost childlike. "Oh God, how is she? Is she all right?"

"Of course she isn't Tommy, she's missing you so much! And you don't even write or phone her!" Mary chided, "Won't you just ring and talk to her? One phone call Tommy, that's all! Then maybe she can sleep a little better at night!"

"I've tried." Tommy growled, "But – he answered the phone and – then he cut me off."

"Let me talk to Tom," Mary tried in a reassuring manner, "Then maybe he'll see -"

"Aunt Mary it won't work!" Tommy snapped. He immediately softened, "Look, just trust me. I know my father and he won't budge on this one. What I'm doing – it just disgusts him to the core."

"Why can't you talk about it?" Mary whispered.

Tommy just gave her a look. "Why do you think Aunt Mary? Come on, you're smart. I know you know the real reason."

Mary closed her eyes in reluctance. "I – I had my suspicions. And I respect the fact that anything you want to say to me is classified – so naturally you can't tell me anything."

"Just don't tell anyone." Tommy said in a hollow voice, "I'll be in a lot of trouble if anyone found out."

"My lips are sealed." Mary said firmly, drawing her finger across her lips. She tried to brighten up for the sake of her nephew's spirit, "Now, what say we browse the menu and have a bite to eat? I don't know about you but all this rationing has set me on edge and right now, I'm really yearning for some good old fashioned cucumber sandwiches."

Tommy twitched his lips into a wry grin, "All right then."

Mary signalled to a passing waiter, "Excuse me?"

The young waiter doubled back at the request of the beautiful Countess, blushing slightly. He couldn't have been older than seventeen. "Yes Milady." He answered with incredible politeness.

"May we please have a plate of cucumber sandwiches?" Mary quickly read his name, "Frank."

"Certainly Milady." Frank bowed his head and started to scurry off.

"Oh and another pot of tea." Tommy added with a smile.

At the sound of Tommy's voice, Frank froze, all sense of cordiality flooding away from his demeanour as he glared at the young Irishman. Tommy blanched in shock under the harsh gaze.

"Sorry, is there a problem?" Tommy asked pointedly, determined not to squirm in discomfort.

This only incensed the young waiter even more. He threw Tommy such a cold look before replying in a tone dripping with ice and contempt, "No there's no problem. I'll be right back with your tea and sandwiches. Sir." He stalked away, throwing the bewildered duo another scathing glance over his shoulder.

Tommy turned back to his aunt, completely flabbergasted. "I wonder what I could've said to upset him now?" He said in an irritated voice laced with amusement, "It seems that's all I can do lately. Upset people."

"Well you're not upsetting me." Mary reassured with a resolute smile, "These past few months have been hell. These past few days have been hell!"

"How is Edward?" Tommy asked with sincerity, "Did he get off all right?"

Mary nodded rigidly, "I'm still awaiting a letter to say he's arrived safely. But he's in Egypt so naturally it'll probably take weeks, months even."

"All this worrying can't be easy in your – well, condition." Tommy said with a shy smile, nodding at Mary's 'baby bump.'

Mary stared at him to check if he was jesting or not. Her eyes slightly narrowed, "Did Joe tell you anything else?"

Tommy shook his head, his eyes wide with innocence, "No, just that he was expecting to be a big brother again in January. You and Uncle Matthew must be thrilled of course. Six children, a big family!" He added with a smirk.

Mary covered up her fraying anxiety with a small giggle, "Yes we are. Can you believe it? A baby amidst a war and at our age?"

"You both don't look a day over forty!" Tommy stated with defiance, reminding Mary forcibly of Sybil. "What's your secret?"

"Children and lots of them," Mary replied with a sigh.

Frank trudged towards them with a tray of tea and sandwiches balanced in his hand. With a dim glower at Tommy, he set the tray down and prepared the tea.

"Milady." He said politely, pouring the beverage neatly into Mary's cup.

"Thank you Frank." Mary said kindly, reaching for her cup.

Then the waiter turned towards Tommy, his steely gaze growing colder. "And for you - sir…" He proceeded to tip the pot into Tommy's teacup but deliberately missed the mark and poured the searing hot liquid over Tommy's lap instead.

"Jesus!" Tommy cried, leaping out of his seat as the scalding tea scorched through his trousers. He grabbed his napkin and started dabbing at the darkening patch spreading over his left leg. Couples from the tables nearby started to peer at them in amusement.

Mary turned to the waiter, her face contorting in utter fury, "What in Heaven's name was that about?"

"I'm terribly sorry Milady, but I'm afraid I just missed the young man's cup. My mistake. Sorry." He replied in a voice quite the contrary.

"No you're not," Tommy snarled, his brows furrowed in anger, "And that was no damn mistake. You did that on purpose."

"And why would I want to do that?" Frank responded, raising his voice louder.

Tommy shrugged, his breathing growing ragged, "Only you can answer that pal."

Frank's eyes glimmered, "Don't you call me pal. One thing I am not is your pal! You lost all right to even talk to me, the moment your lot claimed neutrality."

Both Mary and Tommy flinched in shock and realisation.

So that was the reason for his open resentment.

Mary's head fell into her palm. It all made sense now. The moment this young waiter had heard Tommy speak, his entire behaviour had changed.

"Look Frank," Mary said in quiet desperation, fully aware that most of the attention in the room was focused solely on them, "My nephew, Tommy, he isn't like the others."

"He's Irish isn't he?" Frank countered, eyeing Tommy with disgust, "That makes him exactly like the others in my book!"

"Well clearly your book is all in black and white!" Mary snapped, her voice echoing around the hushed tearoom, "You cannot single out one person who has done absolutely nothing wrong just because you harbour a grudge against their people! I thought such disgusting behaviour is what this country is fighting for!"

"Exactly!" Frank practically yelled, "How is it fair that our boys have to be the ones to fight but the Irish yobs lounge around on their backsides and get off Scott free?"

"Now look here -"

"I had two older brothers!" Frank interrupted fiercely, "One fell at Trondheim, the other at Dunkirk."

There was not a morsel of movement in that tearoom.

Mary closed her eyes and forced some sympathy into her voice, "I'm very sorry about that. I really am. But that's hardly my nephew's fault. And for what it's worth," She added sharply as Frank opened his mouth to argue, "My nephew is choosing to fight for us in a much more dignified way. Which is more than you'll ever do."

With those words Lady Mary Crawley rose from her seat like a swan from the lake, clutching her pocketbook and with a swift nod at Tommy, she swept down the aisle of tables towards the main staircase, turning the heads of everyone she passed.

* * *

><p><em><strong>September 13<strong>__**th**__** 1940**_

"Tell me Branson does the word classified mean nothing to you?" Chester Fenwick, Head of M15 yelled across his mahogany desk. "You were completely aware that all information acquired is strictly classified and you even signed the National bloody Secrets Act!"

Tommy closed his eyes and released a patient breath before replying as calmly as he could, "I know Mr Fenwick sir. I slipped up, I'm sorry. You can be rest assured it'll never happen again."

"It had damn well better not." Fenwick snarled, his eyes growing small with fury, "Just consider yourself blessed that Fanshawe and his crew weren't there. Next time you might not be so lucky! We've invested a lot in this operation and simply cannot afford any – slip ups."

"I don't need to be told twice." Tommy retorted, his tone tranquil yet laced with menace.

Fenwick blanched slightly before waving his hand dismissively, "Very well, get back to work Branson."

* * *

><p><strong><em>September 15<em>****_th_****_ 1940_**

**_8:30pm_**

The losses they experienced that day had not been in vain.

Joseph Crawley landed smoothly on the grass runway of Biggin Hill. With a great deal of help from the aircrew, he lifted his canopy up and hoisted himself out of the Spitfire, almost stumbling to the ground, his mind dizzy due to lack of energy and sheer grief.

"Crawley!" Frederick grabbed his arm to steady him, "Are you all right?"

Very slowly, the Downton heir turned his head to gape at his friend/Squadron Leader. How could he ask him that? He knew what had happened! Over the course of twenty-four hours, they had just watched fifteen of their colleagues, their friends, become engulfed in a blanket of flames and neither Pilot could protect them without risking their own lives or the lives of others. The guilt and heartache had chewed its way through Joe's mind until he could nothing but lapse into a semi-state of catatonia.

"Am I all right?" Joseph echoed softly, his mind completely drunk with combat fatigue. "I don't know Frederick. Am I. First, we lost – we lost Pearce -"

"You tried to protect him!" Frederick said with reassurance, "You did everything you could but that Heinkl was too quick for him… these things happen Crawley, you know that better than anyone."

"Then Jones, Harton, Keyes, Lowe, Newman, Stillman, Grey -"

"Now Grey took down two Messerchmitt's before he was hit!" Frederick interrupted with forced firmness, "They caught his fuel tank – Joe we knew it was going to explode straight away, there wouldn't have been time for him to jump out. And you, you were the one who avenged him by shooting down the plane that caught him in the first place."

"He should've been put into a Spitfire." Joseph mumbled absently, "I knew that Hurricane would fail him."

"Now there's to be none of that talk," Frederick ordered, pulling Joseph away from the aircraft, "We were all in Hurricanes once remember?"

"I still don't understand why he didn't try to escape?" Joseph asked, clutching onto Frederick's shoulder while he led him back to camp. "Do you think his canopy didn't work? Or – or there was a technical difficulty?"

Frederick shrugged, "Who knows? It's no point dwelling on it now Crawley and especially in your current state. It'll only kill you."

"What about Dominic?" Joseph whispered through quivering lips, guilt churning in the pit of his stomach, "We both saw – what hap -"

"Ah, there you both are!"

Both Pilots snapped their head up at the abrupt sound of their Wing Commander striding towards them, a look of relief tinged with gratitude etched upon his stern face.

The young Pilots tried to straighten up sharply but naturally Joseph could barely even hold his head up, let alone keep a straight posture. Wing Commander Shields eyed him suspiciously before addressing Frederick, "What's wrong with Flight Lieutenant Crawley?"

"He's just suffering from severe battle fatigue sir." Frederick answered quickly, subtly propping Joe up by the elbow. "It's been a very rough day for everyone sir."

"That it has." Wing Commander Shields responded with a sombre nod. "Today will be marked as a memorable day. I have it on good authority to report that Operation Sealion, Hitler's attack on Britain, has been cancelled! Phase two is over and phase three has officially begun chaps! Fifty-six losses for the Lufftwaffe! You boys will be hailed as heroes from this day forward!" Shields continued, completely oblivious to Joseph who was starting to shake right in front of him. "Thanks to your determination and defensive spirit!"

"What about our men sir?" Joseph asked, careful to keep the derision to a minimum. "How many losses did we have? Roughly."

"About twenty-seven." Shields replied quietly.

"Twenty-seven." Joseph repeated, almost laughing out loud to prove the full extent of his misery, "Tell me Wing Commander Shields, what was the point -"

"Like I said he's so tired, he's about to collapse any second!" Frederick interrupted swiftly, "Flight Lieutenant Crawley performed brilliantly today sir."

Joseph glared at him in disbelief. Performed brilliantly? It wasn't some theatre show! Men were dead, their friends were dead, good men, men with their whole lives ahead of them, men barely older than they were!

"Well in that case I think he's entitled to a little rest." Shields said calmly, "Go home Crawley, I'm granting you three days leave."

"Are you sure you can manage now that we're twenty-seven men down?" Joseph asked, doing nothing to stop the scorn from trickling into his voice. If he would, he would've punched the man and felt proud doing it. He didn't care if it landed him in trouble; he was too tired to give a damn. This must be how Edward feels, Joseph thought, smirking to himself.

Wing Commander Shields narrowed his eyes, saying in a cool and collected voice, "You're tired Crawley and you look like hell so I shall let that one slide. Trevelyan – you see he gets off in one piece."

"Yes sir." Frederick nodded quickly, waiting until Shields had stalked off before rounding on Joseph. "You idiot! Why go and insult the Wing Commander of all people!"

"Oh, don't give me that!" Joseph snapped, tottering back a few steps in his tired state, "The last thing I feel right now is heroic." He proceeded to walk back towards the camp, his head hung low in ironic defeat.

Once inside, he headed straight for his cabin and started to gather his kit bag together, stuffing in clothes and anything else he might need. Without warning he hurled his bag against the door, releasing an agonizing groan. Joseph wrapped his arms around himself and sunk to the floor, staring blankly at Dominic's empty bunk. Of course that just made the situation even worse and he felt the tears of terror and self-loathing burn behind his eyes.

Papa.

Right now, Joseph felt as though he was still at Dunkirk, drowning in that icy, bloodshed water and the one person, the only person in the whole world who could rescue him, who could drag him out of his abyss of despair was his father.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	38. So Much Owed To So Few

**Author's Note:** Hey, firstly I am sooo sorry for the delay but basically my computer crashed so while I wait to get it fixed, I had to type this chapter all out on my ipad, which meant a lot of irritating predictive texts! But I did get it finished so yay!

Anyway, this chapter is about Joe ( and a bit of georgina) who is slowly being driven mad with guilt. Let's hope Matthew comes to the rescue soon... Oh and there's a return of a familiar face. ;)

So enjoy and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 38 - So Much Owed To So Few<strong>

**_July 23rd 1927_**

_"Joseph Matthew Crawley!" Mary strode into the nursery with her husband in tow. Mary placed her hands on her hips and glimmered at her six year old son who was seated at the small table, arms crossed, just glaring at the thin orange sticks on his plate._

_Matthew had to suppress a chuckle at the expression on his son's face, especially as his wife was mirroring the exact look._

_"Nanny said that you're refusing to eat your carrots again?" Mary raised her brow, "I thought we talked about this. You can't have any cake unless you eat your vegetables first!"_

_"I did!" Joseph whined, "I ate all my cucumber! Why do I have to eat these horrible carrots as well?"_

_"Because they're good for you Joe." Mary replied with forced patience. "We've let you off before but really, enough is enough!" He stared up at her with such a miserable expression she softened. "Well, just eat at least four."_

_Joseph pulled a face, "Four!" He squirmed in his seat, eager to run away but knew he wouldn't make it past the rocking horse let alone out the door. "They're disgusting!"_

_"Darling how would you even know?" Mary asked wearily, "You can't keep putting it off forever."_

_Joseph twisted his hands anxiously, glimmering at the carrots on his plate, "But they're orange!"_

_"I ate all my carrots Mama!" Georgina chirped from behind the dolls house._

_Joseph scowled at her._

_"Good girl Georgie!" Mary praised, with a proud smile. She crouched down next to Edward who was stuffing cake in his mouth, smearing cream and jam all over his face. "Did you eat all your carrots as well my darling?" she crooned._

_The little boy gave her a smug nod and pointed a sticky finger at his brother, "Naughty Joey!"_

_"Be quiet!" Joseph snapped, his little brow furrowed in irritation, "You ate five biscuits!"_

_Edward tried to hit him but he ducked out the way._

_"Now come on boys, there's no need to be unpleasant to each other! Matthew chided, scraping back the small seat next to him and trying to settle into it much to Mary's amusement. He gently pulled on his son's ear, "Joey listen, did you know that carrots are magical vegetables?"_

_Joseph tried to glare at his father with scepticism yet there was a burning look of curiousity flickering in his cerulean eyes. "How?" he asked sulkily._

_"Well, they're very good for your eyes." Matthew said in an excited hush._

_"My eyes!" Joseph echoed in disbelief, glancing the carrots in confusion._

_Matthew nodded, "That's right Joey. If you eat carrots, you will be able to see very well."_

_"But I already can see very well Papa!" Joseph responded smartly. Mary bit her lip to stop herself from laughing._

_"Ah, that's now, but when you grow older, your eyes might not be as strong as they are now - unless you eat your carrots."_

_Joseph continued to frown, "But they look funny!"_

_Mary opened her mouth to argue but Matthew silenced her with his hand, his eyes focused on his son. "Don't you want good eyesight?" He asked steadily._

_Joseph pursed his lips and gave his father a half-nod._

_"Trust me Joe." Matthew said with tenderness, picking up a carrot of his son's plate, "Someday you will be very grateful that you ate your carrots." He popped it whole into his mouth and widened his eyes, "Mmm! Now you!"_

_Joseph pouted for a while then released a long huff, "Oh all right!" He picked up a slim stick off his plate and bit into it, chewing slowly. Gradually his eyes brightened and a smile of delight spread across his lips._

**_September 15th 1940_**

**_10:00am_**

They had been airborne for about five minutes and still there was no sign of the Luftwaffe. Before they had been summoned up into the air, they had been told that a hundred plus Heinkls were on their way towards London. Ready for action, Joseph strapped his oxygen mask on and lifted up his canopy so he could see out more clearly.

"No sign of them yet." Flight Officer Peter Grey's voice crackled through the RT. "Where do you think they're hiding?"

"Not sure." Joseph replied with suspicion. Barely had the words tumbled from his mouth when he saw the tiny black specks wavering in the distance, they were miles away but he could see them clearly and he knew they would be outnumbered. "Squadron Leader Trevelyan this is Flight Lieutenant Crawley do you read me!" He urgently barked into his RT.

"Roger Crawley I read you." Frederick answered after a brief pause.

"Messerschmitts! About twenty-five miles ahead!" Joseph shouted, frantically pulling his canopy down, "They weren't exaggerating Frederick there are literally hundreds of them!" He swallowed, his eyes glued towards the yellow nose aircrafts hurtling towards them at full speed.

"Well spotted Crawley!" Dominic's voice broke through the trajectory, "Even I couldn't see them from here, they look like birds."

"All right chaps here's the plan," Frederick interrupted quickly, "Hamilton, Crawley, Pearce and Stillman you fly up towards the sun, do not let them get behind you! The rest will stick with me, hopefully we can trap some of them before we take them down."

"Roger Trevelyan, flying up now." Joseph muttered, elevating his Spitfire, carefully following the golden trails of sunlight, all the while keeping the enemy within his excellent peripheral vision. He waited, patiently biding his time until the Messerschmitts climbed up to meet him...

Joseph turned his Spitfire around and plunged straight down, pulling off a spectacular dive. He gripped the joystick, looping around the two Messerchmitts which proved to be no match for his Spitfire as they had fallen for the trap. Blinded by the sun, the German fighter pilots could do nothing except attempt an escape while Flight Lieutenant Joseph Crawley pounded at his gun button, sending both planes into an exploding ash of broken debris.

Joseph's plane started to wobble slightly. Releasing a groan of frustration, he found himself being shot at by another Messerscmitt, he swerved to avoid the bullet, almost crashing into Pearce who was swerving to protect him.

The young heir barely had time to utter his thanks. While Pearce had been trying to save him, he hadn't spotted the two Messerschmitts trailing behind his own plane, waiting to attack. But Joseph could see them clearly and they weren't taking any prisoners.

Gripped with a newfound panic, Joseph pressed his RT closer to his lips, all the while trying to shoot down another enemy plane. "Flight Officer Pearce, Messerschmitts! Messerschmitts on your tail!"

Joseph never received a response.

Whilst swooping under a Messerchmitt to avoid being shot at, he just about caught a chilling glimpse of Flight Officer Pearce's Hurricane explode into flames.

Desperately, Joseph tried to peer below, hoping for the sight of a parachute.

No such luck. Which meant Pearce must have been in the plane when it exploded. Oh God. Joseph felt the bile rise in his throat. He wanted to vomit but now was neither the time or the place.

* * *

><p><strong><em>10:30pm<em>**

Mary gently placed her hands around her daughter's right foot and pushed it back carefully. "There. Can you feel that darling?"

Georgina leaned up on her elbows, peering at her foot. She smiled in excitement, "You know what Mama? I can! Just a little bit, but I can just about feel your hand!"

"That's wonderful!" Mary breathed in relief; pulling the covers over her daughter's stoic legs and patting it down neatly. "It's definitely an improvement. Dr Green said that if we keep on doing this every day and every night along with your other therapy, then you should be out of that wretched chair soon. Won't that be wonderful?"

"Yes it will." Georgina replied softly. "And then I can do all the things I want to do. I'm going to join the Women's Auxiliary Air Force, so I can work with Joe." She paused, "And Dominic."

Mary sighed into a laugh, "Oh darling! I do love your determined spirit! But don't get too carried away. Can we at least wait until you're on a walker before we start making such extravagant plans? On the other hand, I am pleased to hear that you and Dominic are getting on so well."

Georgina quirked her brow, "Oh Mama, you're so unsubtle! And as to my extravagant plans, why wait? Now I'm not busy at the police station anymore, all I do is keep thinking about how much I want to help in the war." Georgina furrowed her brow in contemplation. "If anything Mama, the bombing, Aunt Rosamund's death, it's only confirmed it. I want to do something really useful. If the men can do their part then why can't we?"

"Well, you won't be doing anything if you don't rest," Mary chided, trying to cover her mounting agitation at her daughter's vast mind's eye.

"It can't be too long now. I can definitely – feel something, your hand, the sheets just rubbing on my foot." Georgina absently moved her hand over her legs. "And I can feel a little bit of pain shooting up my left leg as well. It's like pins and needles really, but I do understand what Dr Valentine meant." She looked up at her mother and smiled, "It's a good kind of pain."

"I am truly thrilled for you my darling and so very, very proud." Mary caressed her child's ebony locks with fondness, tears of joy threatening to spill. In order to distract herself, she pulled the covers up higher, "Are you warm enough?"

Georgina gave her an exasperated chuckle, "Mama really, there's no need to make that much of a fuss. I'm not a baby."

Mary tilted her head to the side with a quirked brow, "You children will always be babies to me." She grinned broadly at Georgina but for some reason she looked troubled. The smile slipped off Mary's face, "Darling? What's the matter?"

"Well, speaking of babies... how is Rebecca?" Mary sucked in a sharp breath, her lips parting to respond but Georgina quickly cut across her, "I know we're not supposed to talk about it but I can't stop thinking about her! And I think it's terribly harsh of Papa to make that rule! Granny wheeled me round to see her today, in the cottage and she said that Papa hasn't even visited once! Now, I love him very much but really, it's so cold, even for him to just cast her out like that!"

"Darling, your father has not cast her out at all! He's just trying to keep the secret safe, doing what he thinks is best and trying to deal with the situation in his own way." Mary said in a hush, her hands lightly rubbing her false bump. "Please try and respect that."

"I do respect that and I have no doubt that Papa loves Rebecca very much, but I still think it's wrong for him not to even pay her a visit. She needs to feel his love Mama." Georgina said in a voice laced with fortitude. "I mean look at me? I've temporarily lost the use of my legs and everyone keeps harping on about how brave I am!"

"Georgie -"

"But that's only because I'm recuperating in my home, surrounded by the people I love. Save her." She sniffed and wiped away a stray tear. "Poor Becky. It wasn't her fault. I feel horrible about her shut up there all alone, especially when she needs us the most. All this strain and constant worry can't be good for her – or the baby."

Mary closed her eyes briefly, determined not to let how guilty she felt as the truth of Georgina's words drove home. She straightened up, clasping her hands together tightly before responding, "We're keeping regular checks on her. She's being well looked after by all of us, including Dr Green. When the time comes for her to – well, she'll be in safe hands."

Georgina shrugged half-heartedly, "That still doesn't make it fair."

"No." Mary cast her eye to the wheelchair that was parked smugly in the corner of her daughter's bedroom. "But then again, when is life ever?" She turned the lamp out and proceeded to leave.

"Mama."

Mary turned back swiftly, bracing herself for something unpleasant. "What is it?"

When her daughter spoke, her voice was drenched with anxiety. "Do you think Joe and Dominic will be all right?"

Mary swallowed over the sickening lump rising in her throat. Naturally her instinct nudged her to tell the truth but how can she when the truth was so confusing? So she altered it instead. "Of course I do. Listen, your brother and Dominic are two of the best fighter pilots in the country. They've made it this far haven't they? I'm sure they know what they're doing."

Georgina stifled a yawn. "I suppose you're right...they are excellent pilots... I'm just very..." She trailed off into a sigh, "Worried." Her eyes fluttered shut.

Mary smiled thinly, shuffling out of the room. "Me too darling." She whispered, shutting the door. "Me too."

* * *

><p><em><strong>11:15pm<strong>_

Joseph Crawley nibbled on his thumb nail in agitation, staring at the empty seat in front of him, swaying slightly as the train trundled towards Downton under the cloak of darkness. No lights anywhere. Even the train compartments were illuminated with a dim glow, lest they risk the invitation of a bomb. Joseph shuffled in discomfort, completely engulfed with battle fatigue. His parents didn't even know he was coming home today, he hadn't called to tell them. For some reason, after today's events, his mind just couldn't function properly. All he longed for was to tell someone, to talk to someone who had some kind of inkling in what he was going through –

The compartment door slid open abruptly, Joseph's head snapped up. He frowned at the young naval Warrant Officer in weary recognition. "Officer Bryant?"

Officer Bryant nodded, grinning in surprise, "What a surprise it is to see you again Captain Crawley," He pointed at Joseph's uniform, "Or should I say Flight Lieutenant Crawley now."

"Just call me Joe, I am off duty after all." Joseph responded with a tired smile.

Officer Bryant returned the smile with a little more enthusiasm, "Well you can just call me Charlie. I'm off duty too." He indicated the vast amount of space in the empty compartment, "Mind if I join you in here?"

"Absolutely not."

Charlie settled himself on the seat opposite Joe. Once he was able to see him properly, his smile faltered, "Goodness me. You look as if you haven't seen sleep for days!"

Joseph gave him an exhausted chuckle, "That's because I haven't."

Charlie nodded grimly, "I have heard all about it. I mean after Dunkirk it was only a matter of time wasn't it? We don't get much news out at sea but after I returned, it's all they can seem to talk about. London getting hit every night, the whole country erupting into chaos. It's absolute madness. Thank goodness my grandparents don't live near any big cities, I don't think I could bear the worry."

Joseph looked up in interest, "Your grandparents? What about your parents?"

Charlie's eyes clouded with unease, "They're both dead. I was raised by my grandparents since – well as long as I can remember."

"Oh God, I'm sorry!" Joseph said quickly, mentally kicking himself for being so stupid.

"Don't be, how could you have known?" Charlie said with a little sharpness to his tone but waving Joe's apology away. "My father died in the First War you know?"

"Really?"

Charlie nodded then heaved a sigh, "Just days before armistice would you believe? Unfortunately that's all my grandparents want to tell me about how he died. They don't talk much about my mother either; I get the feeling that they didn't like her very much." He chortled bitterly and proceeded to light up a cigarette, "Then again, my grandfather never liked anyone very much, God rest his soul. If it wasn't for my grandmother, I don't know how I would've made it through."

"So you two are close then?"

"Very. She says I'm her rock but in truth she's mine." Charlie said in a voice drenched with pride, "Her – and my grandfather were both very protective of me. And they spoiled me rotten. So I suppose when war broke out, it seemed natural that she'd run riot with worry. Especially after what happened to my father and what with Grandpa gone. I'm all she's got left."

"So are you going home to see her?" Joseph asked softly, making a quick mental note to spend more time with his grandmothers while he still had the chance.

"Yes, I'm getting posted to my new ship, the HMS Hood in a couple of days so I want to see her – and another special girl," His eyes twinkled, "Before then. I'm the next stop after Downton. Is that where you're off at? Downton?"

Joseph frowned in surprise, "How did you know that?"

"Ah, I know all about you Flight Lieutenant – or Lord Downton as you're more formally known." Charlie teased.

"Stop it." Joseph ordered in amusement.

"No I'm being serious." Charlie said with a small smile, "After I met you at Dunkirk I thought I recognized you from somewhere before. Then I found an old photograph of the Oxford versus Cambridge boat race back in thirty-eight and lo and behold your face was there at the front holding the wretched cup! You remember that race? When you thrashed us?"

Joseph's mind fleetingly ran back to those glorious days. He sighed in nostalgia, "Yes I remember. It feels odd talking about us competing against each other, attending rival schools when now we're on the same side, fighting for something much more serious than a silly cup."

"Yes it does." Charlie replied with a small nod. They lapsed into thoughtful silence for a few minutes. Then Charlie leaned forward and asked quietly, "Are you sure you're all right Joe? You look terribly unwell, is it these air battles? Are they doing you in?"

Joseph sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the guilt stirring inside his gut again. This conversation with Charlie had actually proved to be a great distraction but now he'd just brought it all back to the air battle again. He tried to smile but he couldn't quite manage it, "You know what's like Charlie. War drains the life out of you until there's nothing but a shell. And eventually even that would've gone too." He didn't know where those words had come from but somehow they had tumbled from his mouth without volition.

Charlie gaped at him, rendered utterly speechless.

Thankfully, Joseph was spared anymore conversation as the train screeched to a halt at Downton station. "That's me." He swiftly gathered his belongings together and turned to the young naval officer who had helped rescue him. "Charlie, thank you once again for saving me at Dunkirk." Joseph said with a crack in his voice, "I – I cannot tell you how grateful I am."

Charlie smiled warmly, "Don't mention it." He shook his hand with sincerity, a look of sympathy flickering in his eyes. "If I don't see you - very best of luck to you Joe. I mean it."

Joseph stretched his lips into a smile and nodded, "You too Charlie."

Both naval officer and fighter Pilot saluted each other in respect before finally parting ways. Joseph stepped out onto the platform and was just about to head off when he was called back.

"Joe!"

Joseph swiftly turned to see Charlie leaning out of the window with a determined look etched upon his face, "It is I who am grateful to you."

Joseph blanched, "What for?"

"Defending Britain, shooting down the Luftwaffe. You know, Churchill was right." Charlie said firmly, "About you Pilots. So much is owed to the few of you. You cannot know just how much."

Joseph was stunned into silence. All he could do was watch as Charlie shrunk back into the compartment while the train pulled away, feeling more conflicted than ever. So much was owed to the few of them? His head started to spin with fatigue, he stumbled towards the exit, sorely regretting his decision to surprise his parents and inadvertently turning down a lift, which meant he now had to find his own way home. Home. He just needed to get back home and then everything would be all right.

* * *

><p><strong><em>September 16th 1940<em>**

**_12:00am_**

Matthew reclined in his armchair listening to the midnight news, unable to stem the flow of pride which coursed through his body as the broadcaster mentioned that today was a great day of victory for the fighter pilots. A small creak at the door jolted him out of his reverie; he glanced up abruptly to see his son stumble into the library.

"Joe!" Matthew exclaimed in loving surprise, shooting out of his seat to embrace his eldest son. "What are you doing home? Not that I'm complaining but I thought you'd be out celebrating."

Joseph drew back, surveying his father through bleary eyes, "What on earth for?"

Matthew's lips parted to answer but subsequently it was the broadcaster who caught Joseph's attention.

_"A large scale attack on London saw inaccurate bombing due to the determined defence put up by our magnificent RAF fighters – every single aircraft of Group Eleven was used." _Matthew beamed at his son but Joseph didn't react, forcing Matthew's smile to waver._ "We have it on good authority to report, that the Germans have suffered their highest losses since the eighteenth of August."_

"We lost half our squadron too." Joseph murmured, shrugging out of his leather bombers jacket and ripping off his gloves. "Didn't mention that did you?" He flung himself down onto the couch and released a long held sigh.

Matthew turned the wireless down, then turned a careful eye on his son, saying evenly, "Joe, listen, I'm not going to force you to talk about what happened. Believe me, I know what it's like to have people pretending to understand what you're going through when they don't know a damned thing. But I am always here if you want to talk."

Joseph flicked his eyes towards his father, his fingers lacing together in agitation. He squirmed in his seat, unable to sit still while his breathing grew ragged with panic.

"Joe?" Matthew asked sharply, sensing danger, "What's happened?"

"It's Dominic." Joseph whispered, tears threatening to spill, "I – I tried to protect him. I did." He scrambled upright, resting his forehead on his hands which were now curled into fists.

Matthew swallowed, "Right." He choked out in a voice of forced calm, praying Dominic was all right, for Georgina's sake as well as his own. "What about Dominic? Is he all right?"

Joseph opened his mouth to answer his father, his eyes melting into guilt. But it was Churchill's words which fired out of the muffled wireless that sewed Joseph's lips shut.

_"The gratitude of every home in our Island, in our Empire, and indeed throughout the world, except in the abodes of the guilty, goes out to the British airmen who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of the World War by their prowess and by their devotion."_

"I'm sorry, I can't listen to anymore of this!" Joseph leaped out of his seat, bolting for the door.

"Joe!" Matthew called out in confusion and shock.

Joseph almost slipped out, but not before he heard the seventeen small words which pierced the sword of guilt right through his soul.

_"Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few."_

It was too much. He raced up the stairs to his room, one by one all their faces came screaming into his memory, tortured, yelling for help while they burned alive.

Matthew gaped open mouthed at the door where Joseph had just dashed out, completely ridden with shock. He had watched his son writhe and twist in despair, tortured with guilt or horror and there was nothing he could do about it! He glanced at the wireless, his own heart breaking in anguish.

Matthew sauntered towards the window and peered out into the pitch-black sky. All that was left were the few flickering stars dotting the sky. Matthew released a bitter scoff, at least it wasn't Germans. Joe was among the few, so was Dominic and so many others. They had helped defend Britain against the Nazi's.

But at what cost?

Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the shrill whistle blaring in his ears, men screaming, shells exploding -

He snapped his eyes open and rested a cool hand on the glass to steady himself. He just couldn't stop thinking about his son and everything he might've had to face today. Matthew glared at the sky.

What in God's name happened up there?

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	39. Surprise

**Author's Note:**Hey, thank you soo much for all the reviews, it means a lot! And, it helped me right this chapter asap! It's a bit long but I'm sure you won't mind as it deals with a lot of resloution and a HUGE surprise at the end hence the title! ;)

So enjoy and plz tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 39 – Surprise<strong>

_**September 16**__**th**__** 1940**_

"All right he's coming down, don't press him!" Matthew warned, swiftly folding up his newspaper and shooting warning looks around the dining table as the sound of Joseph's footsteps grew closer.

"I could say the same to you." Mary said wryly, she sipped her water, keeping an eye on the door.

Joseph marched into the dining room running a hand through his neatly combed hair. He grabbed a plate from the side-bar, dropped a few leaves of salad onto it and plopped into a seat next to his father and sister, fully aware that his family were watching him like hawks.

"Good morning." He muttered, forking up a few leaves and chewing with a despondent expression.

Mary placed down her glass very pointedly, "Actually its lunchtime." She said in an even voice, indicating Cora seated at the table, "Your Grandmama has very kindly agreed to join us today."

Cora smiled at her grandson, "Hello darling. It's so wonderful to have you back!"

"Oh, hello Grandmama." Joseph responded in surprise. He glanced at his watch then shrugged, "Sorry, I didn't realize I slept it so late, I must've lost track of the time. When you've been flying for four, five hours straight, time just seems to dissolve."

There was a ripple of discomfort through the table.

"No wonder you look so exhausted." Cora sighed.

"I am." Joseph replied curtly. "And I only have twenty-four more hours of rest before I have to leave again." He slowly lifted his head, staring directly at his mother, "So if I sleep past noon on my days off, you'll have to forgive me."

Mary's eyes fluttered towards her husband, then her plate, a soft blush creeping upon her cheeks.

"Never mind that." Isobel said with a cheery expression, "You're up and about that's all that matters." Joseph gave her a half-nod but didn't say anything.

Cora gazed around the table with a small frown, noticing a very strong presence. "Where's Benjamin?"

"Oh, he's eating in the nursery today." Mary answered, exchanging a glance with Matthew, "He still hasn't quite got used to walking downstairs in those crutches."

"That doesn't stop him from treating it like a toy though." Georgina said with a bemused smile, "He does love to swing on them."

"His leg is healing fine." Isobel interjected, "I'm sure it'll be out of that cast in no time.

"Has anyone heard anything from Edward?" Joseph asked suddenly.

Tension claimed the table once again.

"No, no darling we haven't heard anything from him yet." Mary exchanged an overwrought glance with Matthew, trying to mask her distress with a smile, "But I'm sure he's just busy." She absently fiddled with her napkin so her hands could have something to do, "I mean – we would've heard if he – if he wasn't."

"Yes we would've," Matthew added quickly, eager to slice through the brimming anxiety. "I've tried calling the war office but they moan and groan at me and very heatedly tell me that there's probably a reason for his delayed response. Like that's supposed to reassure me!" He punctuated his sentence by shoving a forkful of salad into his mouth.

Georgina carefully turned to her brother, asking with earnest, "So how's Dominic?"

Joseph almost choked on his water. He dabbed at his lips while sidling a worried glimpse at his father not gone unnoticed by Mary.

"What's happened?" She asked sharply.

Georgina's eyes darted from her mother to Joseph then to her father and back to Joseph again, apprehension dawning on her porcelain face. "Joe? What's happened to Dominic is he all right?"

They could hear the steady clinking of silver on china as Joseph's hand started to vibrate. He tried to force his fork down, mumbling, "I can't talk about it here. I'll tell you afterwards I promise."

* * *

><p>"It was awful." Joseph started quietly, his eyes glazing with sadness and repulsion. They were all clustered in the library, fixing their eyes onto the Downton heir as he told his own horrific story of the Battle of Britain. Matthew leaned his arm against the fireplace, listening so very intently but trying so hard not to breakdown for the sake of his family.<p>

"We had been flying for so long; all of us were suffering from the worst battle fatigue imaginable. I had shot down six, maybe seven Messerschmitts."

"Sorry to interrupt Joseph dear, but a Messerchmitt? That's a Nazi plane isn't it?" Cora asked curiously.

Joseph nodded, "Yes Grandmama. It's a Nazi fighter plane. It's our job to shoot them down and everything was going – reasonably well at first. We had a solid team behind us, I did as Trevelyan - (Sir Chester Trevelyan's son, Frederick, he's my Squadron Leader now) - told me to do, fly towards the sun, take them down. That was our battle plan. It worked..." He licked his lips, a small crease forming between his brows. "But then I heard Frederick through my radio transmitter, he kept shouting 'Messerchmitts! Messerchmitts behind you!' So I looked. And I saw. They started...shooting at me."

Matthew released a low rattled breath while Mary clenched her hand into the fabric of her dress.

"I remember panicking," Joseph continued in a taut voice, "I remember the cordite fumes spitting at me in the cockpit, there was ash everywhere, I couldn't see a thing, I couldn't fly properly – the fumes, they were getting into my throat, choking me!"

"Oh you poor darling." Cora reached out and grasped her grandson's hand tightly, "How you must've suffered."

"I was one of the lucky ones Grandmama." Joseph said sourly, "Men who have been shot at – and have no time to escape, they're the ones who end up in flames. Fire is the one enemy a Pilot has no control over. It's the one element that is a danger to us Pilots."

Mary finally looked at her son, her eyes hooded with determination. "And Joe have you – have you ever been...has your plane ever been...?" She didn't need to finish the sentence. Joseph just stared back at her, his cerulean eyes revealing all. Mary clapped her hand to her mouth, trying to process – everything. Matthew didn't dare look at her.

"Right, so what happened to Dominic?" Georgina pressed, her voice laced with fear.

"Well, while I was recovering from my temporary flight relapse, Dominic managed to shoot down one of those planes," Joseph said in a measured voice, "But then more kept coming at us, and everything was in chaos, there were men getting blown up left, right and centre." He could feel the panic rising in his chest as the horrific dogfights came screaming back into his memory, "Only a few managed to escape..." He trailed off, realising the words that had just spilled from his mouth. With a heartbroken look his eyes drifted to his father who stared back at him, mirroring his expression. "Only a few." Joseph whispered. He shook his head, trying to pull himself into focus, "Anyway, then I saw something that almost made my heart stop."

Everyone stared at him in anticipation.

"What did you see?" Mary asked, her voice trembling.

"I saw about eight Messerchmitts swarming towards Dominic," Joseph said through gritted teeth, "I think they were planning on ambushing him. No, what am I saying; they were definitely going to ambush him!" He raked his fingers through his hair, twisting uncomfortably in his seat, "But luckily they were outnumbered. I took about ten of our men straight into the fold, including Dominic. We just plunged in there and kept on shooting them down until there was nothing left but ash."

"Well, naturally." Isobel said soothingly, shooting a look at her son who still hadn't said a word. "We all have to do our part Joe. If that's your job then so be it." Cora turned to glare her down but Isobel wouldn't be intimidated, "And if what you're trying to tell us is that Dominic had been shot down and you didn't save him -"

"That's just it!" Joseph interrupted his tone on the brink of hysteria, "I was trying to keep an eye on him. But I became too distracted in shooting down the planes; I only just saw his Spitfire get shot down. I tried to scream in my RT, I warned him to jump, to escape but the Luftwaffe were coming at us thick and fast, closing in on all of us and I needed to – do my job – shoot them down." Joseph took a deep, shuddering breath, "I had just taken down another Messerchmitt, I got the warning from another Flight Officer that another one was about to attack me, to my left, so I turned – and that's when I saw Dominic's Spitfire explode below me."

Georgina and Mary both released sharp gasps of horror which forced Joseph's eyes shut.

"But surely he escaped." Matthew blurted out, the first words he'd said in minutes. "Surely – he listened to your warning and jumped out."

Joseph shook his head, "I tried to look down, to see signs of a parachute but I was getting shot at! I needed to fight back."

"So you don't know if he escaped or not?" Mary asked sharply.

"I don't know!" Joseph responded loudly, throwing his hands wide with emphasis, "That's my point Mama! His Spit was tumbling down, he had plenty of time to make the escape!"

"But how do you know it was his plane that exploded Joe," Cora asked swiftly, "You said yourself you were distracted! It could've been another's – or even a Messer – thingy?

"Oh it was his Grandmama. I could see very well." Joseph flicked his eyes towards his father, saying in a bland but very straightforward voice, "Pilots have good eyesight. It's a required ability. I'm a hundred percent sure that it was his plane that went up in flames."

Matthew tore his eyes away, fighting down the strong urge to laugh out loud in the irony of it all. Maybe he shouldn't have force fed carrots to his children after all.

"All right look," Mary said with forced calm, "Even if he did make the jump, how do we know he wasn't shot down afterwards?"

Joseph shook his head, "He wouldn't have been Mama."

"How do you know that?" Isobel asked suspiciously, "If the Luftwaffe are shooting right at your planes, and then you jump out, surely they'll just turn their guns on you instead."

"No Mother," Matthew said quietly, "It's a mutual rule between fighter Pilots. They only have to shoot at the planes, not each other. If a German parachutes out of his plane then the RAF don't shoot him and vice-versa."

When everybody stared at him he cleared his throat awkwardly, mumbling, "I heard Douglas Bader mentioning something about it on the news the other night." He glanced at his son, "I think it's quite respectable actually."

Joseph quirked his brow, nodding slowly, "We're a respectable group." He stood up slowly, eyeing the phone with wariness, "I would call my squadron... but – well," He swallowed, his eyes glazed with panic, "I just don't know if I could take any more bad news."

"Then I'll phone them." Matthew said gently, shooting his son a swift but genuine smile, "I'll explain my - position and hopefully if he is alive – then he'd have turned up by now."

Joseph released a sigh full of gratitude, "Thank you Papa, thank you so much."

Isobel rose to kiss her son's cheek, "I have to get back to the hospital. Call me when you hear."

"Thank you for doing this Matthew." Cora said with sincerity. Matthew grimaced, trying to stop the blush from creeping up his neck, all he was doing was making a phone call for heaven's sake.

Georgina reached out to take her father's hand, smiling her smile that she reserved just for him, "Yes Papa. Thank you."

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later, they were now clustered around Matthew in the foyer while he spoke with Air Marshal King. It had taken a few strings to pull but he managed to get there in the end.<p>

"I see. I see, so his Spitfire was definitely destroyed." Matthew said grimly, his ear glued to the receiver, "Yes. Yes his registration number. I see, it was printed on the side of his plane." Georgina exchanged a worried look with her mother. Matthew's eyes suddenly brightened, "He's alive? Oh, thank goodness!"

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, Mary clasped her daughter's shoulder while she looked at her son who eyes fluttered shut in reprieve. "You see darling," She said with a cheerful smile, "You were worrying for nothing."

"I would hardly call it nothing Mary!" Cora berated. Mary frowned at her mother but didn't argue further.

A dark expression clouded Matthew's face, he gazed at Mary, then Joe, barely choking out the two words he seemed to say so easily. "I see."

The smile slipped off Georgina's face, she turned her wheelchair around to face her mother, "Mama, what do you think has happened?" She whispered fearfully, "Do you think he's badly hurt?"

Mary opened her mouth to say something reassuring but Matthew promptly slammed the receiver down. His lips parted as he stared at his son, trying to find the words to explain.

He didn't need to.

Joseph knew.

"How bad are the burns?" He asked softly, yet his panic was accelerating.

Matthew released a rattling breath, "Not as bad as you might think. Apparently his joystick caught fire while he was tumbling down as did his hands."

"His hands?" Mary repeated vaguely.

"Yes."

"Poor boy." Cora sighed.

Georgina closed her eyes, her heart plummeting, "Just his hands Papa? Nothing else?"

Matthew shook his head, "Both hands have been severely burned. He's in hospital now, up in Croydon but he will be going back home – I say home, Denville Hall is now an RAF convesalence home. Apparently, they have - a remarkable surgeon there who can perform many miracles."

Joseph snapped his head up, "Surgeon?" He echoed sharply, "He's going to need surgery on his hands?"

Matthew shifted uncomfortably, "Special kinds of surgery yes."

"When can we see him?" Georgina asked urgently. "Can we visit him in hospital or wait until he goes back to Denville Hall?"

"Hold on," Mary interrupted firmly, "You cannot go tearing off in your condition."

"Oh forget my condition now Mama!" Georgina snapped, "Who cares if I'm in a wheelchair when Dominic's hands have been disfigured!" She viciously turned her chair around and wheeled herself back to the library.

"Oh Georgie darling -" Mary tried to run after her but Cora placed a firm hand on her shoulder, holding her back.

"Let her go dear." She said quietly, "She's upset and needs to be alone right now so she can process this news."

"But she does have a point," Matthew interjected tentatively, "When do we go and visit him?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>September 27<strong>__**th**__** 1940**_

It was several days before the Crawley's finally paid Dominic a visit at Denville Hall. Mary decided it would be best to wait until Georgina could walk properly. She had just managed to pull herself up to stand on her own, much to her father's delight and it was then that she decided they pay a visit to Dominic once and for all. No arguments. Benjamin had whined and begged to come along as well, desperate to escape the confinement of the house but both his parents put their foot down. God only knows what kind of horrors they'd encounter there. It was no place for a seven year old.

"You'd think Downton Abbey were a prison the way you all behave," Mary huffed as the car trundled through the wrought iron gates of Denville Hall. She tried to exchange an exasperated glance with Matthew but her words had struck a chord with him. She noticed him frowning but didn't push it.

Joseph suddenly released a gasp of awe, "Look!" He pointed out of the window, himself and Georgina squashed to the side in their eagerness to get a glimpse of the house. Denville Hall loomed upon them, standing majestically upon a hill of sheer greenery, displayed in all its magnificent wonder for the world to see.

"It's a castle!" Georgina breathed, her eyes widening in admiration.

"Oh of course it isn't!" Mary sniffed, "Downton is much bigger. The brick work is much too dark here, and those hedges over there need more trimming."

"Ah, pay her no attention Mama," Joseph said with a small smirk, "Georgie's just admiring her future home."

Georgina elbowed him hard in the ribs, Matthew shot his son an exasperated look from the driver's seat, "I hope you two are going to be on your best behaviour today."

"Why wouldn't we?" Joseph shot back, "It's an RAF convesalance home. We're not going to start running riot, we grew out of that once we left the nursery."

"I should hope so." Mary replied back in her frosty tone which forced both her eldest children to shut up.

Matthew pulled into the vast driveway, parking next to a large medics truck, just one of the few which dotted the front entrance. Doctors, nurses and a couple of patients mulled around some of the trucks, Mary thought the scene looked far too familiar for her liking. No one said a word as they slid out of the car. Matthew helped his daughter into her wheelchair, throwing the occasional glimpse around the grounds.

"Everything seems so – organized." Joseph commented in surprise, "It really does look like a hospital from the outside."

"A hospital created especially for Pilots." Mary said, shooting her son a wry smile, "Why they need exclusivity is beyond me. Aren't all injuries supposed to be treated equally?"

Georgina rolled her eyes, waving aside her father's assistance. "Oh, Mama. You know that Pilots sustain the worst burns than any soldier could. They're here for surgery not just recuperation. It's no more a convesalent home than it is a hospital if you think about it."

Mary narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "You certainly seem to know a lot about it. Next you'll tell me you want to work here too."

Georgina pursed her lips before replying coolly. "Oh, you know me Mama. I prefer to be amidst all the action."

"Play nice you two." Matthew chided wearily as Mary opened her mouth to respond.

Joseph whistled as they eyed the magnificent bricks which must've dated as far back as Tudor times, "What a home!"

"This certainly brings back memories." Matthew said softly, voicing his wife's exact thoughts as they climbed the stone steps to the large house.

"What do you mean?" Georgina asked inquisitively, wheeling herself up the side-ramp. "What kind of memories?"

"Darling, your father just means that seeing all these medical trucks around the house, brings back memories to when Downton was a convesalence home during the last war." Mary explained.

"Well I can't think of putting this house to better use to be honest," Joseph stated, still very much overwhelmed with awe. "I'm glad the Denville's are helping the RAF! What a better way to support the war than open your home up to wounded Pilots?"

"Yes." Matthew muttered, a peculiar feeling settling into the pit of his stomach

"Ah, Lord Grantham, Lady Grantham!" Lord Denville rushed out of his house to greet them; he nodded at Joseph and Georgina in turn, "Lord Downton, Lady Georgina so wonderful you could come!"

"It was no trouble at all!" Joseph insisted, shaking the Duke's hand warily, "So, how is Dominic?"

Lord Denville raised his wary brow, and then beckoned for them to enter the house. Glancing at each other curiously, they followed him into the grand foyer which were speckled with light and navy blue figures, some nurses, most of them Pilots. Those that weren't slumped in wheelchairs or muttering to the nurses, were all queued up behind a large keg. Mary resisted the urge not to clamp her hand over her mouth as the strong smell of beer mixed with antiseptic penetrated her nostrils. She indicated the barrels strewn around the hallway, "I didn't know you were running a brewery as well Lord Denville." She joked.

Lord Denville chuckled, "It's for the officers, to help them relax."

"I bet it does." Mary muttered under breath, heard only by Matthew who shot her a warning look. She masked her discomfort with her usual smile, widening her lips as Lady Denville glided forward to greet them, a tray of glasses balanced in her hands.

"Oh Lady Grantham, so glad you could come!" She airily kissed both of Mary's cheeks, "I'd shake your hands but as you can see..." She held up the tray. Her eyes travelled to Mary's 'bump.' "Oh!" She squealed with glee, "Yes, yes I heard you were expecting again! Congratulations!"

"Thank you! It was a shock when we found out but of course I'm delighted!" Mary said in what she hoped was a delighted tone while she sub-consciously wrapped her coat around the bump. Joseph exchanged a sharp look with Georgina but they tried to keep up appearances, acting as if they too were thrilled.

Lord Denville clapped Matthew on the shoulder with a small smirk, "Won't it be exhausting? Bringing up a child in the middle of a war? And at our age?"

Matthew tried to sputter a nervous laugh, "Doesn't war bring challenges to all of us?"

Lord Denville chortled, "How right you are! But I can't think of any bigger challenge than fatherhood!"

Matthew tipped his head to the side with a raised brow, "You're not wrong there."

Lady Denville quirked her head towards the drawing room, "Our drawing room is being used as a recuperation ward now. Lord Denville will take you in, Dominic's just resting."

"Oh?" Matthew replied in surprise, "He's in there? I'd have thought...well since this is his home...?"

Lord Denville exchanged a look with his wife before responding in a tight voice, "Yes well. You remember how it is I'm sure. When you agree to give up your home to these – these people, I suppose you don't really know what it is your signing up for. They muscle right in and take over the entire house! We agreed to do our bit for the war effort but naturally we don't know a single thing about medicine, so any consultation with us is long overdue!"

"Ah." Mary nodded in understanding, "Let me guess, the doctor in charge is running the operation?"

"The man acts as if he's God's gift to the medical world!" Lady Denville huffed. Georgina suppressed a giggle. "Not to mention the constant arguments with the Air Marshals." She shook her head, "Anyway I have to get these glasses up to Dr McCarthy, he's already having kittens!"

"Is Dr McCarthy that reconstructive surgeon?" Matthew asked with interest. "I've read about him, he's supposed to be excellent when it comes to curing – burns."

"Yes," Lord Denville answered thinly, "He's an irritating fellow, quite sure of himself but there's no denying the man knows what he's doing. He's worked wonders with Dominic and some of the other patients as you'll see for yourself." Lord Denville dropped his voice to a hush, leaning towards Joseph, "Just count yourself lucky my boy. Some of these boys – I'd have prayed for death than be in their shoes. My son got off easy."

Joseph was forced into a shocked silence. Even Lady Denville looked scandalised at her husband's comment.

"So," Mary said pointedly, after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, "Dr McCarthy does all his operations here? In this house?"

Lady Denville nodded, "The upstairs rooms have been converted into operating rooms. Dr McCarthy and his team have taken over two floors to perform their – surgery." She said with a grimace, "There are no amputations or anything like that, it's strictly reconstructive surgery. My son was one of his patients." She politely excused herself and scurried up the winding staircase.

Lord Denville motioned for them to follow him through to the drawing room. As soon as they shuffled over the threshold, each Crawley was lost for words.

Beds lined the sides of the walls, some men were sitting up, some were fast asleep but nearly all of them had bandages slung across their faces, or their necks. Joseph couldn't breathe. He felt as if he were looking at some version of what could've been his own life. Former Pilots who now looked completely unrecognizable, their faces had been – oh God, he had to avert his eyes he couldn't even look. They'd think he was mocking them.

"I told you Dr McCarthy performs wonders," Lord Denville said softly, veering to one side to let a trio of nurses scuttle past.

Georgina continued to wheel herself down slowly, her eyes clouding in sympathy yet shimmering with determination, "He certainly does."

Matthew lapsed into a dazed silence, these Pilots, these men, most of them were in their early twenties, scarcely the same age as his own son and yet they looked so much older. Their faces, melted out of proportion like candle wax. He rubbed a shaking hand over his chin, it was terrible. They finally reached Dominic's bed. The young Pilot lay propped up against his pillows, his face sprinkled with a few cuts and bruises but nothing too bad. Georgina's eyes drifted towards his heavily bandaged hands were resting stoically atop the sheets.

"I should warn you, he's been pumped full of morphine." Lord Denville said grimly, "He only came out of surgery today. I wanted to have him done sooner but as it was just his hands that got burned; he had to get shifted to a waiting list."

"Papa?" Dominic slurred, jerking his head towards his father, "S'that you?"

"It's me son," Lord Denville patted his son's leg, "I've brought some people whom you'd like to see."

Dominic rolled his head towards them and tried to smile, "Joe? You're alive – thank God."

Joseph fought hard to keep his expression unreadable, "Of course I am. Thanks to you." He said in a shaking voice. Lord Denville glanced at him but didn't say anything.

Dominic turned his attention towards Georgina, unable to stop the smirk from leaking across his lips. "I bet you think that chair isn't so bad anymore hmm?" He held up his thick mittens, "Not when your hands have been roasted to the bone."

"Don't joke." Georgina scolded gently. She cast an eye around the room, "It could've been much, much worse."

"She's right son," Lord Denville said in a patronizing voice which forced Mary and Matthew to stare at him quizzically, "You chaps are one of the lucky few. In fact, all of you in here are very, very lucky."

Dominic just gave his father a dry sneer, "Lucky few. I'll be lucky if they let me fly again with these." He glared at his hands, "I know they don't care about how you look and I'm lucky my eyesight has been spared but if they do send me back up – and I can't hold my joystick properly -"

"You will!" Joseph interrupted swiftly, "And anyway, the worst of the Battle of Britain is over. We've done it Dom." He lightly patted his friend's shoulder, "Get some rest all right. God, knows you'll need it for when you come back."

Dominic released a tired snicker, "Thank you Joe."

"What for?"

Dominic flicked his eyes towards his father, saying with as much emphasis as he could muster, "For telling me straight and not treating me like a child." The smile slipped off Lord Denville's face.

Mary cleared her throat, eager to slice through the awkward tension which lingered about them. "So Dominic, your parents were telling us about Denville Hall's contribution to the war. How do you like your home being put to such good use?"

"Well, it was my idea Lady Grantham," He replied with a smile, "To help the Pilots who have been wounded for king and country. And this large empty house was just sitting here with nothing to do. It wasn't used for anything during the last war so I thought we could set up an RAF hospital." He flicked his eyes towards his father, "And finally give the house some proper history. History that we can all be proud of."

Joseph smiled sadly, "That's good."

Matthew furrowed his brow, surveying the room once more while the same uncomfortable feeling settled into the pit of his stomach.

Dominic sidled another glance at his father, "Also, I think it's nice that Mama and Papa have some authority over them for a change."

Lord Denville's eyes grew small, "Well clearly all that morphine has made you rather free with your speech." He said icily.

"We should let you get some rest!" Mary said hastily, "We don't want to tire you out."

"I'm sorry if this was a wasted visit." Lord Denville muttered, trying to keep the bitterness to a minimum.

Matthew twisted his lips into a wry smile, "Oh I wouldn't say that."

* * *

><p><strong><em>October 4th 1940<em>**

While twilight settled upon the grounds, Matthew stood outside Downton Abbey, just staring at the great house as if it could offer him some kind of answer to his problem. The answer was probably staring at him right in the face if he just looked hard enough. He heard the soft padding of his sons as they crept up behind him.

"I was taking Benji to see Chestnut," Joseph said softly, "Georgina and I promised Edward we'd look after him while he was away."

Matthew nodded, his heart clenching with trepidation as he thought of Edward. They still had no word from him personally although when he paid a visit to the war office in person, they had assured him that they were fine. It had taken all the willpower he possessed to stop himself from decking the men in the face.

A small flutter to his side, drew Matthew's attention away from his troubling thoughts. He looked down at his youngest then up at his eldest and smiled, turning his gaze back upon the house. "How are you getting on Benji?"

"Fine!" Benjamin answered with a broad smile, he hopped in front of his father, balancing on just the one crutch, "Dr Green says I'll be able to walk without any crutches in no time!"

Matthew beamed in delight, "Did he? How wonderful! But you mustn't tire yourself out all right?"

Benjamin pouted, "That's what Granny said."

"Well she's right," Matthew said tenderly, "Now scram. It's time for your dinner anyway."

"Oh all right!" Benjamin huffed, ambling back to the house with incredible ease.

Matthew watched him with a sad smile etched upon his face, "I envy his solidarity." He said quietly to his eldest.

Joseph stood shoulder to shoulder with his father, both the Earl and the heir staring at their house, their home.

"What's troubling you Papa?" Joseph asked with concern, "Let me help anyway I can."

Matthew released a long held sigh, "It's something that's been troubling me for a while now Joe. Ever since we visited Denville Hall." At Joseph's confused frown he ploughed on, "You see, during the last war, this house, Downton Abbey, was used as a convesalance home for the wounded officers as was many great estates during that time."

Joseph nodded, his brow furrowed, "I know. It certainly helped in the war effort."

"Exactly!" Matthew responded with fierce enthusiasm, "Now, I know this house can be useful again Joe! I know it can be used for something of great importance to the war! Denville Hall confirmed that! If they can help then so can we!"

"Are you saying what I think you're saying Papa?" Joseph asked, a grin splitting across his face. "You want to use Downton Abbey for something?"

"I'm saying I want to give this house a new chapter, a new branch of history." Matthew said passionately. He clapped his arm around his son, pulling him towards their house, "We'll be the Crawleys who saw through the Second War!"

"With what though?" Joseph asked warily, aware that father was to be engulfed with his own enthusiasm. "You're already running a Cypher School in Crawley House, Mama says the Evacuees are most definitely going to be placed in nearly all the houses in the village, so unless you want to turn Downton into another convesalance home - ?"

"I don't think we could do that again but we'll think of something!" Matthew interrupted dismissively, "An idea will fall into our arms. It's right under our nose, I know it!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>October 9<strong>__**th**__** 1940**_

Later than evening when everyone had retired to bed, Mary sought her husband out in the library where he was busy scribbling away. "Ah, here you are. What's wrong with you?" She asked in firm tenderness, "I've just been to see Rebecca and she says you were in a trance."

"I'm sorry, I have a lot on my mind," Matthew answered absently, still scratching at the paper. "I'll pay her a visit in the morning and apologize."

Mary thinned her lips, highly doubting that. "Right," She said in a clipped voice, pretending to browse through the bookshelf. "Have you heard the news? Chamberlain has resigned from his seat in the House of Commons due to health reasons. Churchill has replaced him and is now head of the Conservative party."

Matthew scoffed, "Good. It was only a matter of time."

Mary turned away from the bookshelf, eyeing him curiously, "Are you coming up any time soon?"

"I have to finish this letter to General Jacobi then I'll be up in a minute." He threw a glance at the clock and carried on writing, "I'm asking if he knows of any Secret Intelligence Services that need a quiet, reclusive hub to set up their operations."

Mary nodded swiftly, "I see. So you won't be persuaded, you're still keen on using our home as a base for dangerous Military Operations." She said in a measured voice growing with irritation. "Why not stick a sign above the house that says, 'Bomb Us,' and be done with it!"

Matthew closed his eyes briefly before replying gently, "Darling please let's not go over this again. You know how important Downton can be to the war effort."

"But it already is important!" Mary protested airily, "Our farms provide good meat, eggs and milk and we might need to house some of the city children -"

"Which we can still do." Matthew interjected delicately, "Mary, just because we're letting our house out to Intelligence, it doesn't mean we can't still live here."

Mary frowned, "But surely it's going to take a lot of planning. To say nothing of Benji keeping it a secret! That's a task within itself."

"But Mary think of how much good it can do!" Matthew implored, "If we can help the war effort in any way, isn't it worth a few sacrifices here and there?"

Mary resisted the urge not to roll her eyes. "Oh, you really are your mother's son aren't you?"

Matthew chuckled, "Just think about it."

"All right." Mary sighed after a brief pause, "But we need to talk about it properly in the morning. In how we can make it work and not fall apart."

Matthew smiled, rising from his seat so he could kiss her in gratitude, "As long as we're running the ship together, we can make anything work." He whispered.

Mary smiled at his flattery, she leaned in for another kiss but was interrupted by a steady pounding on the front door. She turned to her husband in astonishment, "Are you expecting anyone?"

Matthew shook his head, puzzled, "No, not at this time of night."

Still in a bewildered daze they strode out of the library and marched towards the door where the banging was growing louder upon the drizzle of rain. Matthew seized the handle and pulled the heavy door open.

All words died on his lips.

Mary released a small scream of horror and shock at the figure wavering on the doorstep before them, clutching onto the doorframe for support, barely able to stand. A streak of lightening flashed across his drenched face, battered, bruised and torn but he still managed to split his lips into a tight smirk.

"Surprise." It was the only word Edward Crawley managed to choke out before collapsing into a cataleptic heap in his father's arms.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	40. Pack All Your Troubles

**Author's Note:** Hey, thank you all sooo much for the reviews! So sorry for the delay but I spent ages on this chapter! Anyway, this all deals with Edward's story, pretty much. And some secrets embedded within... But more on that later. (Also on a side note, Sidi Barini is a place in Egypt that was home to british troops and HMS worthington, I just made up.)

So enjoy and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 40 – Pack All Your Troubles<strong>

_**July 1st 1929**_

_"Pack all your troubles in your old kit bag and smile, smile, smile!" Eight year old Joseph and five year old Edward Crawley along with six year old Tommy Branson, belted out the infamous tune while they marched around the old oak tree, tall, thin tree branches slung over their shoulders like rifles._

_"What are you boys doing?"_

_The sharp, stern sound of their father's voice forced all three boys to jump in surprise, their hands holding the sticks, automatically whipping behind their backs. Matthew Crawley strode across the lawn towards his sons, his face set in an interrogative frown._

_"Papa we were just playing a game!" Joseph responded hastily as his father approached them._

_"So why are you hiding sticks behind your backs?" Matthew asked in forced patience, crossing his arms and surveying the boys. "You wouldn't happen to be playing war again would you?"_

_"No!" Joseph responded defiantly, staring his father down._

_"No!" Tommy echoed, naturally prone to copying anything Joseph said or did anyway._

_But when Matthew's eyes wandered to Edward, he just gave him a casual shrug and brought the stick round to show his father, "War's a fun game to play."_

_Matthew released an angry yet patient sigh, "No Eddie, war is not a fun game to play. It's a very, very bad game to play and you should not be playing it."_

_"Why?" Edward whined, jutting his lips out in a pout while his body squirmed, warning Matthew of an impending tantrum. "That's not fair! You played war Papa! We saw the pictures!"_

_"Eddie my boy, that was a long time ago," Matthew said pointedly, sweeping up a hand in Joe's direction to stop him from interrupting with a smart response. "And lots of people got very hurt and I think out of respect for them, we shouldn't play this game anymore. All right?"_

_"All right." Joseph repeated sulkily._

_"All right." Tommy cheeped._

_"Did they get hurt because of the guns?" Edward asked with interest._

_"Yes." Matthew answered curtly. "Now come inside all of you, we can play a nice game of tiddlywinks."_

_Edward's pout deepened, "I don't like tiddlywinks. All you do is throw coins in a pot! War is fun to play!"_

_Matthew gritted his teeth in frustration. "Edward, please can you listen to me? There is nothing fun about war and there is absolutely nothing fun about guns!"_

_Edward was too busy waving the stick in front of his father's face to listen. "Can I have a gun for Christmas Papa?"_

_That did it._

_Matthew snatched the sticks out of the boys hands. "I mean it. If I catch you playing war again, I will put you in the naughty corner." He cast a weary glance at Edward, "I know that doesn't mean much to you Ed but I am being serious."_

_"Can we sing the song?" Edward asked softly. _

_Matthew stretched his lips into a tight smile, desperate not to let the truth show on his face. "No Ed." He said kindly, reaching out to chuck him under the chin, "You can smile and smile all you want. You have nothing to worry about."_

_The song was never sung again._

**_October 10th 1940 _**

**_12:00am_**

"Very good, now just breathe in for me again Master Edward," Dr Green ordered softly, shifting his stethoscope around Edward's quivering chest, his face etched with consideration while Mary and Matthew looked on in desperate worry.

Edward fluttered his lids wearily and sucked in a rattling breath, his teeth chattering. Dr Green nodded, ripping his stethoscope out of his ears and turning towards the Earl and Countess in concern. "Lord and Lady Grantham it appears that Edward is suffering from an acute case of hypothermia."

Mary just stared at him. Matthew's face paled, "Hypothermia?" He rasped.

"Try not to panic too much Lord Grantham," Dr Green gestured to Edward who had drifted back to sleep. "Like I said, he's an acute case and that is treatable. We just need to get his body temperature back to normal."

"Right, so what should we do?" Mary asked with determination.

Dr Green glanced at the fire with approval, "Keep that fire going, we need to keep him as warm as possible. Give him something hot to drink, maybe tea or cocoa but avoid any alcohol that is a definite enemy. Sugary foods will help, but make sure he can swallow first so ask him to cough before he eats or drinks anything at all." He pressed his fingers against Edward's throat to feel his glands, muttering, "The last thing we need his him choking."

Mary flitted towards her son's bed and rested her warm hand against his thawing cheek. She threw a panicked frown at Dr Green, "His cheek still feels cold!"

"Sometimes your own body heat can help," Dr Green suggested with tenderness, "If you could try hugging him, it will help warm him up."

"All right." Mary replied quietly, slipping her arms underneath her son's neck so she could cradle him gently.

"Dr Green?" Edward slurred, his head rolling towards the doctor, "Dr Green?"

Dr Green lurched forward, "Yes Edward? It's me."

Edward peered at him through bleary eyes, "I can perform the amputation if you want." He mumbled.

"Amputation? What's he talking about?" Mary snapped, her face ridden with shock, "I thought you said -"

"He's delirious." Dr Green answered shortly while he inspected Edward's pupils. "No...pupils aren't too dilated thank goodness."

"But will he get worse?" Mary asked anxiously.

"Not from what I can tell. Of course it'll help if I could know more about what actually happened to put him in such a state," Dr Green said pointedly.

"Well we know as much you," Mary replied in distress, brushing a bronze lock off her son's forehead. "He turned up at the front door, battered and bruised, dripping wet from head to toe and then he collapsed into Lord Grantham's arms."

Dr Green turned to Matthew who was stood rooted to the spot, just gaping at his son, open mouthed and horrified.

"We carried him upstairs, stripped him off all his wet clothes and tried to keep him as warm as possible," Mary continued, caressing her son's cheek fondly. "Thank you for coming out at this hour of the night Dr Green."

"Oh it's no trouble at all Lady Grantham!" Dr Green said dismissively, shooting Matthew a warning look, "Lord Grantham, might I have a word?"

Mary's head snapped up.

Matthew jolted his gaze away from his son. "A word?" He echoed in a daze.

Dr Green nodded stiffly, "Yes, if you don't mind."

"Dr Green -" Mary started sternly but she was swiftly cut off.

"Don't worry Lady Grantham, I just need to go over Master Edward's medical requirements."

Satisfied with his answer or too worried to argue, Mary nodded and turned her full attention to her son. Matthew glanced back at them before following Dr Green out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Dr Green turned to Matthew with a faraway glint shimmering in his eyes. "Lord Grantham – do you remember the last war?"

"Not if I can help it," Matthew replied in a tense voice.

Dr Green shook his head impatiently, "I meant, do you remember when we were at the front together? Before I came to Downton as Dr Clarkson's assistant? I was a medic in your unit for a while?"

"Yes of course I remember." Matthew said with a little more compassion sewn into his voice. "Private Green. You were the newbie, just twenty years old." His eyes drifted to the floor in bitter nostalgia, "You – you were the one who helped get Private Mason and myself to safety after we were..." He couldn't say it, it was just too much.

"Yes," Dr Green said quietly, "Well, I'm bringing it up because, the last time I saw a case of hypothermia was in Amiens twenty-two years ago. Private Wilfred Fells."

"I remember." Matthew said with intensity, his eyes burning with distress, "I remember only too well! The boy died in my arms..." Hot tears stung his eyes; he had to blink them away. Private Fells, barely nineteen and fallen victim to hypothermia due to poor exposure in the trenches.

Matthew took a shuddering breath before forcing the next words out of his mouth, "But you said Edward was acute...?"

"Yes but in most cases Lord Grantham, acute hypothermia is usually caused after a person has fallen into cold water." Dr Green explained swiftly. "Which is why it would be a great help to know the story behind Master Edward's – condition?"

"Well it's like her Ladyship said, we don't know anything!" Matthew ran an agitated hand through his hair. "We're not covering up for him or anything. Edward was in – or supposed to have been in Egypt for God's sake! What do you think he did? Swim back here?"

"All I know is that something distressing must've happened in order for him to end up in the state that he's in." Dr Green said in a fixed voice. At Matthew's distraught stare he stuttered, "Only because I've known Master Edward all his life and he's always been a tough fighter when it comes to illnesses.

"So, what are you saying? Should I brace myself for the worst?" Matthew asked in a shaking whisper, willing his heart to stop thumping so erratically.

Dr Green shook his head, saying softly, "No Milord. Just follow my instructions and keep a very close eye on him throughout the night and if, in the morning he's significantly better then you'll have nothing to worry about." He paused before adding in a low tone, "However -if his condition worsens throughout the night. Call me." Matthew nodded like a puppet. "I'll see myself out."

Matthew watched Dr Green scurry down the stairs. He turned back to face the door, taking in a deep breath before bolting back into Edward's room.

Mary looked up as soon as he entered, her eyes narrowing. "Did Dr. Green leave a special list?"

Matthew sighed, "He just wanted to make sure I understood that's – all. He said we have to keep watch on him all night."

"Of course." Mary whispered, grazing her knuckles over her son's brow, "I was going to anyway."

Matthew ripped off his jacket and slung it over Edward's desk, dragging his chair towards the bed. "I'll take the first watch."

Mary eyed him warily, "All right. I'll go and ask Mrs Plum if she can make him some hot cocoa then." She gently rested her son's head back onto the pillow and rose to her feet. "I'm sure she won't mind being woken, not when she finds out it's for Edward." Mary started to walk towards the door but then stopped, turning back to her husband with a small smile, "Darling you heard what Dr Green said. Your body heat will help keep him warm."

Matthew turned his head towards her slowly. Her smile widened but her lips were quivering as she whispered, "Give him a hug my darling. You know our Edward. Once he's well again – who knows when he'll ever let you."

Matthew watched his wife patter out of the room before turning back to his son. Edward twitched in discomfort, squirming under the sheets in restless terror.

"Edward?" Matthew grabbed his arm, urgently trying to shake him out of his reverie while his panic accelerated, "Edward, it's all right son! You're safe, you're at home!"

"Corporal Tate..." He murmured in agitation, his head jerking from side to side, "The wound is too deep...I'll clean it for you...let me get some morphine..."

"Edward please try and sleep," Matthew begged through gritted teeth, trying with all his might to keep it together, "You're safe here now, I promise." He held his son in a cast iron embrace, desperately trying to transmit his own body heat into his son. Edward tried to fight him, thrashing around in his sleep as though he was drowning, but Matthew didn't give up. Eventually he fell into an uncomfortable slumber. Beads of sweat sprinkled his forehead, Matthew gently rested his son's head back onto the pillow, singing a chilling tune into his ears, just as he had done to young Private Fells.

"Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag, and smile, smile, smile." Matthew swallowed, memories of the trenches and the sound of whistles and shells, him cradling Fell's lifeless body, quickly starting to resurface as he re-visited that damn song.

"While you've a Lucifer to light your fag, smile, boys, that's the style." Matthew closed his eyes tightly but somehow that just made it worse - he was back in the trenches again.

No! He had to plough on for Edward's sake.

"What's the use of worrying? It never was worth-while, so pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag, and smile, smile, smile." Matthew prised his eyes open.

Relief flooded through him.

He wasn't in the trenches, he was safe at home, in his son's room. He watched Edward's steady, rasping breaths and he felt a tiny pang of guilt as he thought how truly grateful he was, holding his living, breathing son in his arms and not Private Fell's cold, dead one.

* * *

><p><em><strong>2:12pm<strong>_

The Dowager Countess of Grantham shuffled nervously across the foyer of her previous home, staring up at her daughter who trooped down the stairs as though each step were a great effort.

"How is he?" Cora asked in concern as Mary reached the bottom stair, rubbing her palm against her bloodshot eyes in fatigue.

"Oh, he woke up again during the night but eventually went off at about four." Mary answered in complete exhaustion. She ran an elegant hand through her uncombed hair, "But he seems significantly better. Isobel's with him now."

"I still don't understand why you didn't call me as soon as he turned up on the doorstep," Cora fired out in an accusatory tone as she ripped her gloves off. "I'm losing enough sleep as it is worrying about him and everyone else!"

"Mama please," Mary threw her hands up wearily, "I've already had enough of that with Isobel. Can you stay? I need to go over the Evacuee list again."

Cora gave her a curt nod. "Cutler told me that Matthew's gone up to London." She stated, still quite disgruntled. "He's not serious? After what happened last time?"

They proceeded to head towards the library. Mary turned to her mother with a grim nod, "He is I'm afraid, though he solely promises to be back before dark."

"Well, what's so important in London that needs his attention so urgently?" Cora asked in disbelief as they strode into the library, she shot a quick smile at Georgina who was seated near the fireplace with a book on her lap.

"He's trying to find out what happened to Edward." Mary replied with a sigh. She rootled around the top drawer of her desk for the Evacuee list. "I said we should wait until he comes round, so we could hear it first-hand but Matthew doesn't want to wait, he wants to know now."

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry to keep you waiting Lord Grantham," Colonel Redford said quickly, striding down the polished hallway of the Whitehall War Office with a file tucked under his arm. Matthew rose with some irritation and shook the man's hand half-heartedly. "Shall we continue into my office?"<p>

Matthew raised his brow, indicating the other man to lead the way. Colonel Redford led the Earl down several more corridors before finally inviting him into his own luxurious office.

"Take a seat Lord Grantham," Colonel Redford said wearily, gesturing a chair to Matthew while he flipped back into his own padded throne. "So, how's Joseph? Or Flight Lieutenant Crawley I should say. He's gone back to the RAF hasn't he?"

Matthew narrowed his eyes slightly as Edward's name was passed over. "He's fine." Matthew replied in a measured voice, "He's still in Biggin Hill."

"And how about you?" Colonel Redford asked with sincerity, "How are you coping with all of this?"

Matthew shrugged, his gaze challenging, "It's been a trial, there's no denying it. We've seen more than most in this year alone. But I'm holding it together for the sake of my family."

"As am I Lord Grantham, as am I." Colonel Redford heaved a heavy sigh, staring at the ceiling, "You know what I was thinking when you arranged this meeting Lord Grantham?" A fond smirk played about his lips while Matthew just stared blankly. "I was remembering the first time I saw you. You were just a young, naive Lieutenant, both of us, young men marching into war. And here we all are, standing on the sidelines, watching our boys do it all over again."

Matthew resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Was this to be the case any time he talked to someone from his old regiment? Dragging up the last war as if it were some great quest? He cleared his throat, "Yes, well, speaking of our boys... I don't know if you're aware of my other son, The Right Honourable Edward Crawley?"

Colonel Redford's pen slipped through his fingers at the mention of Edward's name but he successfully managed to compose himself, addressing the Earl with a sympathetic frown, "Yes. I do know Edward Crawley."

Matthew watched Colonel Redford shift uncomfortably in his seat before saying in a very measured voice, "Well, my wife, Lady Grantham and I waved him off to Egypt in early September and we received no notice for about a month. A whole month and not even a slip of paper to inform us that he was all right. I even came charging up here in person and one of your – colleagues fobbed me off, informing me that they were fine and all was well." Matthew's eyes glittered dangerously now, "But that wasn't the case at all was it? Truth is, you didn't even know where they were."

Colonel Redford tried to shrug, his face remaining stoic, but the agitation threatened to break through, betraying his cool composure.

"So, before coming down here I made a few calls and inquiries of my own," Matthew continued, his voice growing deeper with calm fury. "And apparently – this might shock you Colonel Redford – but the Italian soldiers had lined Egypt's boarders and captured most of my son's regiment."

Colonel Redford's eyes closed in defeat. "So you know then."

"Edward is a medic," Matthew hissed, "It's his job to keep them alive. How is kidnapping him going to help anyone?"

"Why are you telling all this to me?" Colonel Redford asked, a little defensive in his reprimand, "I certainly didn't organize that!"

"But you knew." Matthew breathed, his rage threatening to engulf him. "You knew that my son could've been a potential Prisoner Of War and you let me go on believing he was all right, even though I knew, I knew something wasn't right." Matthew shook his head in disgust, "And you sit there, calling yourself a friend?"

"Now hold on a minute Lord Grantham!" Colonel Redford said in a more authoritative voice, his eyes revealing a hard glint. "What gives you special priority over the other boys parents? Surely they would've all been wondering the same thing?"

"Then you should've told them too!" Matthew countered, "Instead of letting us bounce around in blissful ignorance!"

"You would've all found out in due time!" Colonel Redford shuffled his papers in a fluster, "This is highly classified military information -"

"Oh don't start spouting all that rubbish, not with me!" Matthew interrupted sharply, "It all boils down to this. You knew my son was trapped and you knew he was my son. You know me Colonel Redford, or should I say, Lieutenant Redford." Matthew raised his brow, challengingly. Colonel Redford lifted his head up to glare at the Earl. "Because that's what you were once. We both were in a war together once – Kenneth." He added in a lighter tone. "You understand better than anyone what it feels like. To become so terrified you feel paralyzed with fear, not moving, not breathing, not knowing if the next step you take will be your last. That's how Edward must've felt." Colonel Redford's hard gaze softened at each word Matthew fired out.

"You said it yourself," Matthew continued thinly, "We're watching from the sidelines now. Please don't make it hard for me. Please don't make me think that I can't do anything to help him when I can do so much."

Colonel Redford leaned on his desk, his fingers intertwining with each other in anxiety. When he spoke it was that of compassion. "I understand what you're trying to say. But the reality of the situation is that most of those boys – their fathers also fought alongside us in the trenches and they too will remember exactly what we do. And I'm sure they all think they can help their sons. But they can't."

"Kenneth if you would just listen to -"

"This is a war Matthew!" Colonel Redford interrupted cuttingly, all formalities dropped. "Everyone is doing their bit in different ways, there are people in the army, navy, air force – intelligence, engineers, to name but a few and they're all someone's son or daughter!"

Matthew glared at him, "For Heaven's sake Kenneth I'm not asking for a reprieve because of my position! I just want to know what else you're not telling-"

Colonel Redford held up his hand, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Edward's division but it is procedure." At Matthew's steely look he added irritably, "Look, Lord Grantham I don't make the rules! I have to answer to a much higher power too."

Matthew sunk back into his chair, not quite determined to be beaten just yet. "So what are you doing now? Are they being held prisoner in Colditz or something? Are you going to rescue them?"

"Did your son tell you how he made it back home?" Colonel Redford asked with interest, dodging Matthew's questions like a quick bullet.

Matthew shook his head, "No he didn't. In fact, he hasn't woken up yet, he's been suffering from hypothermia all night!" He raked his hand through his neatly gelled hair, "But naturally, I am keen to find out how he made it from Egypt to Downton in just about one piece."

"As am I." Colonel Redford responded, more to himself than to Matthew. He turned back to Matthew with a tight smile, "Look I have to go, I have a meeting at two but give Edward my regards and if he tells you anything, anything at all, then – do let me know."

"Like you did you mean?" Matthew shot out, his voice dripping with iciness.

Colonel Redford sighed, "Come on Matthew, don't let this unpleasantness come between us."

They both rose to their feet, Matthew shuffled towards the door still trying to calm down. Colonel Redford offered him his hand. "I am sorry I didn't tell you about your son. But you see, where military rules are concerned, our hands are almost always tied."

Matthew accepted the handshake, saying with as much force as he could muster, "I'll be the judge of that Kenneth." He swept out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Colonel Redford waited until his footsteps faded, before snatching up the telephone, twisting the dials frantically until he called through to his requested number, waiting with baited breath until someone picked up.

"It's me." He muttered evasively, throwing a quick glance at the door. "We have a problem. Don't ask me how, but - Lord Grantham knows. Edward Crawley found his way back home – alive. No – don't try and weasel your way out of this one just shut up and listen to me! Now, I don't know what kind of stuff that boy's made of to even survive something like that, nor do I know what he saw or how many others are out there, but we need to find a way to shut them all up before we're given away!"

* * *

><p>It was late by the time Matthew returned to Downton, he strode into the foyer, stone faced and guarded, pausing briefly to allow Cutler to remove his hat and coat.<p>

"Papa!"

Matthew looked up quickly, Benjamin stood at the top of the staircase, leaning against the banister with a wide grin. "Did you know Edward's home?"

"Yes I did." He said with a forced smile, "But he needs rest so try not to make too much noise."

"Don't be ridiculous." A haughty voice trailing from behind Benjamin prompted a grin to tug at the corner of Matthew's lips. "You can't tell Benji not to make any noise." Edward Crawley sauntered down the stairs, ruffling his brother's hair. He looked thinner yet healthier than he had been the night before and was grinning at his father like a Cheshire cat. "That's like telling a dog not to bark."

"Well you should know." Matthew said softly with a wry smile.

Edward's grin faltered, "I heard about what happened in London." He swallowed, casting a tense look at the floor, "But I didn't know you were all caught up in it."

Benjamin interrupted the tension with a loud giggle, "I showed him my crutches and he said I was officially injured in war and – therefore - entitled to compensation." He smiled proudly at his father as he recited the words.

Matthew returned the smile, "Did he now? And have you been talking his ear off all day?"

Benjamin frowned at the metaphor, "You can't talk someone's ear off!"

Matthew's face froze in wariness, "Oh, Benji, that's just an express -"

"You can pull someone's ear off," Benjamin interrupted in a casual voice, his face screwing up in contemplation as he over-analyzed this particular turn of phrase. "If you pull on them really hard like this," He tugged on his own ears, "But I think it will hurt!"

"Well, yes of course it'll hurt, it'll be very painful." Matthew said wearily, "But Benji that's not -"

"But Papa, you said talk his ear off!" Benjamin said loudly, "I don't think you can talk someone's ear off because if you always talk – and someone's ear can fall off- "

"Benji -"

"Then everyone's ears will be falling off all over the place!" Benjamin continued in exasperation. "Then we can't hear anything!" Edward chewed on his lip to stop the laughter from bubbling up.

Matthew sputtered patiently, "Benji it's not liter – it's just a figure of speech." At Benjamin's blank stare he continued with ease, "It's just a saying that people – say when someone's been talking too much."

Benjamin pouted, "That's a horrible thing to say!"

Matthew gaped at him in surprise, "Benji?"

"You shouldn't joke about people's ears falling off! You should be ashamed of yourself Papa!" Benjamin chided before darting back to his playroom leaving a smirking Edward behind.

"Yes Papa," Edward added in a mocking tone, joining Matthew at the bottom of the stairs, "Tut-tut."

Matthew heaved a sigh, "Why does he always have to be so literal?"

Before Edward could give his usual smart-mouth answer, they were interrupted by the sound of all the Crawley women emerging from the library.

"I think it's rather unfair to wait until Spring to bring them here." Isobel stated, striding ahead of the group while Mary and Cora trailed behind, exchanging exhausted glares. Georgina trailed behind with her walker, rolling her eyes at Matthew as she passed him, but giving him a quick kiss on the cheek all the same.

"For the hundredth time Isobel, I want to wait until after the baby's born." Mary responded in icy politeness, "And if we're going to use this house for Intelligence as well as a house for evacuees then it's only going to be delayed anyway. We need to get clearance and that could take months."

"I see. So they're all supposed suffer up in London until this house has had a few spot checks?" Isobel countered sharply. Edward looked from his grandmother to his mother in thorough amusement.

Mary sucked in a sharp breath, "Like I said – a thousand times already today, I don't make the rules."

"Might I ask what's going on?" Matthew interjected cautiously, "You all seem to be discussing something rather heatedly if you don't mind me saying."

"Your mother is very – assertive in her opinions over our evacuee scheme." Cora said with a grimace.

"Assertive is putting it rather mildly." Edward muttered under his breath.

Matthew shot him a warning look before addressing his mother. "Mother," He said as graciously as he could, "Mary and Cora are working so hard to ensure that these children are to be welcomed into Downton with as much love as possible. They've been given all the guidelines from the war office and they must follow it. Please, let them get on with it, they know what they're doing. "

Isobel tried not to glare at him. "I'm only saying what I think. But if you don't think my opinions are valid -"

"It's not that!" Cora interrupted hastily, "It's just – Mary and I have already set a date for their arrival and to change it now would cause quite a disturbance. It's not that we don't care about them, of course we do. We're just trying to accommodate a situation that's best for everyone." She shot a smile at Edward, "And what with Eddie back, safe and sound in the company of his family, isn't that what's best?"

Isobel gave her a stiff nod. "Of course and Edward knows how much I'm thrilled to have him back. But this is a war and in war we all have to make sacrifices."

Mary mouthed the last words behind her back. Both Matthew and Edward had to fight to keep their faces straight.

"Now, I think I'll go and lie down before dinner, all this talk has given me a bit of a headache." Isobel stalked up the stairs. Cora watched her go with a look that just screamed, 'you and me both.'

Edward released a mock huff, "Well, she didn't sound too thrilled to have me back. I wasn't expecting a party or anything but a simple 'hello' wouldn't go amiss."

"Don't take it too personally darling." Mary said airily, "Your Granny's feeling a bit left out that's all."

"Typical Granny," Georgina said with a smile, "She does love to be in charge all the time. You'll have a job keeping her out of this place when it's being used as an Intelligence hub."

"Well let's just hope the baby can distract her." Mary said casually.

Edward waited until they had all trooped into the drawing room before mumbling, "Don't get your hopes up too high."

* * *

><p>After dinner Mary sought her son out in the garden. He was seated on their bench under the large oak tree, hands thrust into his pockets, just staring into the dark.<p>

"You shouldn't be outside in your condition." Mary chided softly, sitting down next to him.

Edward snorted, "Listen to you. My condition. I'm not pregnant."

Mary playfully slapped his arm, "You know what I mean. You should be inside, where it's nice and warm."

Edward shifted in discomfort, "I'm bundled up nice and warm, isn't that enough?" He sidled a glance at her, "Besides, why do I get the feeling you're not here to scold me for being outdoors?"

Mary feigned a shrug of indifference, "I don't know what you mean. Can't a mother enquire after her son?"

Edward rolled his eyes, "Mama, if you want to ask me about what happened just ask. I'm not Joe or Papa, I won't cause a big drama whenever there's a story to tell. Me, I tell it like it is."

Mary looked down at her hands while replying firmly, "Your father went up to London today and – to cut a long story short darling, he knows what happened." She heard Edward suck in a sharp intake of breath. "Now, you may not think I understand." She added quickly, "But I am your mother and there's nothing you can't tell me, no matter how horrible it might be."

"I know Mama, I just said I'll tell you didn't I." Edward said with irritation, "Why must everyone in this family dance around the subject all the time!"

"We – that is, you're father and I, we don't want to force an explanation out of you." Mary said evenly. "

Edward turned to her, his face twisted in incredulity, "Mama – have you not been listening to a word I just said? Look, if you really want to know, most of my work happened after we were forced to retreat." He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, "There were a lot of injuries and it was even more gruesome than I thought it would be. They weren't practice dummies, you know they were real people. Real bodies – real...blood."

"But Edward, most of your unit has been captured." Mary said in a voice barely above a whisper, "How is it that you're sitting right here." She reached out a shaking hand to touch her son, hardly able to believe that he was alive, well and seated right in front of him.

Edward gave her a nonchalant shrug, "I suppose it's because they let me go."

Mary blanched at his casual tone. "Let – let you go?" She echoed in disbelief. "They let you go?"

"That's what I said Mama." Edward replied in a bland voice, "Do you want me to write it down for you?"

"But why did they let you go?" Mary asked, her eyes narrowing yet her voice tried to remain neutral, "Did you – did you bargain anything with them?"

Edward's head snapped towards her so fast she flinched back. "Excuse me?" He fired out, his tone dripping with ice, "If you're suggesting they let me go because suddenly I've transformed into some kind of Nazi spy then you're miles off the mark!"

"I didn't mean it like that!" Mary protested, "It's just that – we've read all sorts about POW's. And I'd rather you died than become stuck in one of those camps." She breathed, her lip quivering.

Edward's face softened instantly, he clasped her hand in his saying with tenderness, "Oh, Mama don't say things like that. I'm fine aren't I? Look, if you must know, they were going to take me as prisoner. They shoved me on a boat and everything, I tried to fight back, you know me..." Edward gazed into the distance his finger brushing over the swelling bruises on his cheek as he recollecting his story, "But then one man grabbed my arm, the one with the medic band around it. He asked me, 'You doctor?' I told him, I wasn't wearing the armband for the fun of it, you know?" Mary nodded in a daze, gripped by every word.

Edward licked his lips and continued, "Once he found out I was a medic and not a soldier they decided to cut me loose. I panicked – as I would've found myself stranded in Egypt, no way to escape. Suddenly, boom! One of our naval ships, HMS Worthington had opened fire and were starting to attack them." He gave his mother a wry smirk, "Talk about bad timing. That being said, they pulled me aboard their ship and some of the other men but... most of my division are still being held prisoner somewhere."

"How awful for them." Mary squeezed her son's hand, her heart accelerating with the possibilities of what could've happened if the Navy hadn't saved her son and her heart went out to those poor mothers whose sons were being held captive somewhere. "God Edward, it was so lucky the Navy was there for you." She blurted through her veil of tears. "I – I dread to think what could've happened if they hadn't been. Why were they there anyway?"

"Well, once I was rescued, they looked after me quite well. I asked them if it were a coincidence that they were there and then they told me that they had received a tip of from Naval Intelligence. Apparently, they discovered that the Italians were planning to stage a full invasion into Sidi Barini, where we were supposed to have set up camp along with some of the other British divisions. So they trailed the Italian ships and rescued us just in time." Edward nodded slowly, "It's good in a way. At least Sidi Barini can remain under British protection."

Mary didn't know how to respond. She didn't know what to say. God knows she wished Matthew could be here to hear this. Finally, she managed to say in a measured voice, "Edward, that still doesn't explain how you turned up on the doorstep soaked to the bone."

Edward sighed impatiently, "Well, once we arrived on English soil, I hitchhiked back home in the rain." At his mother's indignant look he added defensively, "The navy had to keep a very low profile and seeing as how they saved my life, I couldn't very well put them at risk by asking for a lift could I?"

Mary released a low breath, "Darling why didn't you say? We didn't know what happened? No one kept us informed! When Dr Green said you had mild hypothermia we thought you might have – fallen in some icy water like Joe at Dunkirk!"

Edward snapped his head towards her in bemusement, "What? No! It was just spending hours in the delightful company of our lovely English weather that caused me mild hypothermia! Look Mama, it may seem like a month for you, but for me it's been so much longer. I've spent most of it on ships, completely detached from home. So I'm sorry if I miss out on a few facts. I'm still trying to adjust." He said tetchily.

Mary quirked her brow, "Well you did want a career in the navy."

"Must you bring that up now?" Edward responded dryly. "I've suffered a very traumatic experience thank you very much. I am entitled to some time off before we can start making plans for my next big adventure!"

"Well, I for one will not be in any hurry to send you off anywhere." Mary linked her arm through his, "I'm just glad to have you back home."

"I know." Edward sighed, "You've told me a hundred times before."

Mary chuckled, "Good."

They sat in silence for the longest time, just watching the flickering stars, before Mary finally said with as much casualness as she could, "Maybe you should write to Clarissa and tell her you're back."

Edward shot up from the bench, "Right, I'm going back inside," He said in a peeved voice, "I think I'm going to call it an early night."

Mary nodded, unable to conceal her smirk and swiftly rose to her feet, giving her son a loving kiss on his cheek. "All right. But Edward, at least tell your father what you told me. He's just as worried as I am."

Edward's face melted into a look of exasperation, "What's the use of worrying?" Then seeing the stern look etched upon his mother's face he cleared his throat, muttering in a hollow voice, "But if it soothes you, then of course I will."

Mary beamed at him, pressing yet another kiss on her disgruntled son's cheek, "That's my boy! Goodnight my darling. And sweet dreams."

Edward scoffed, "I doubt it."

Mary watched him stride back up to the house, his hands shoved deep into his pockets while he whistled a haunting tune she once heard Matthew whistling all those years ago. 'Pack Up Your Troubles.' The recollection brought a smile to her lips. She collapsed back onto the bench with a sigh, singing to herself, "What's the use of worrying? It never was worthwhile, pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile, smile, smile."

The smile faded from her lips as her heart clenched with pain.

How many men had sung that song while they marched towards their death? She glanced up at the house, desperately wanting to ask Matthew but of course he refused to talk about it.

And how could she possibly smile when the future was so full of unexpected bombshells?

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	41. Resolutions and Solutions

**Author's Note:**Hey, thanks for all the amazing reviews and support, it really fuels me to get the story going! And yes, lot's of twists and turns to come! One reviewer asked if we could see what Rebecca's up to and well... it's your lucky day! Yep, this is the big day! Also, we finally come to a solution...

So enjoy and please tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 41 - Resolutions and Solutions<strong>

_**December 31st 1940**_

"Thank you for bringing me the food," Rebecca said to her brother with a grateful smile as she placed the picnic basket on the kitchen table, "I'm feeling absolutely famished."

A sharp pain stabbed across her abdomen, she nearly cried out in shock but bit her lip before the moan broke through, breathing through the throbbing pain which was slowly easing off. During the past week she had woken in the night due to pain in her lower back. When her mother raised these concerns to Dr Green, he merely said that it was common in young mothers, although he didn't look too pleased about it.

"I wish you could've come back to the house." Edward said, leaning against the kitchen counter and pulling a face, "Seeing as the servants aren't here, I did ask Mama but she said that Benji might still suspect something."

Rebecca clutched the back of the chair as another searing pain sliced across her stomach, almost bringing the poor girl to her knees but she ignored it. She wasn't supposed to be due for another month and this is had to be the one thing that she could control. "Well you can't argue with her there." She breathed absently as she unpacked the food, her head feeling much lighter.

"Are you all right?" Edward asked, gazing upon his sister in concern. "You seem a bit off."

"I'm fine," She responded through gritted teeth, breathing through another wave of pain, "I'm just tired that's all."

"Well you should eat something then. We've brought you all your favourites." Edward said with uncertainty, "It was Papa's idea."

Rebecca resisted the urge to scoff, "Of course it was." She paused, flicking her gaze towards her brother in suspicion, "I still don't understand why you're being so nice to me. Before you left, you were all for me ripping this thing out with a coat hanger -"

"I never, ever said that!" Edward retorted, his cheeks flushing in fresh anger, "And I made up with you before I left!"

Rebecca quirked her brow at him, "Only because you felt you had to."

Edward flinched at the truth behind her words. "You know what? I only came to see if you were all right, because believe it or not – we miss you." He said in a tone dripping with ice, "But if you're going to behave like a spoiled child -"

"Well you've certainly changed your tune!" Rebecca fired back, breathing heavily through the intense pain. "It wasn't so long ago that you were running around, gambling all your money away and picking fights in pubs!"

"Yes, with the person who did that to you!" Edward yelled, pointing at Rebecca's bump which was covered by her arms. "I understand why you're in such a foul mood -"

"Do you?"

"But if you had just listened to us in the first place -"

"I don't want to talk about this now!" Rebecca scowled, a tone of finality dripping into her voice as she clenched her teeth through another spasm of pain. "If you're not going to say anything nice then leave!"

"Fine, please yourself!" Edward snapped. He stormed towards the door, his hand clasping around the handle, ready to dash –

Rebecca released a shriek of shock, followed by the steady gushing sound of flowing water.

Edward whipped around, his eyes growing round in horror as he watched, open mouthed at the sight of water currently pooling the floor around his sister's feet.

"I – I think the baby's coming!" Rebecca gasped, doubling up in utter pain as she clutched onto the counter for support. "I don't understand! The wretched thing's not due for another mon -" She broke off into a groan of sheer agony.

Edward forced his legs to jolt into action, dashing towards his sister's side and helping her into a chair. "Right, you – just sit there. I'm going to go and get some help!"

He started to move towards the door but Rebecca shot out her hand and grabbed his arm, "No!" She cried, her face melting into terror, "Please Edward! Don't leave me alone!"

Edward prised his arm out of her (surprisingly) strong grip. "I have to Becky!" He hissed, "I'll only be a minute."

Despite her protests he bolted out the door. Rebecca was now left alone to ponder her own stupidity, gasping through the extreme physical distress. She had known what to do, she had been told repeatedly what to expect. But the pains had been coming and going for two days now, she had merely thought that the time was growing closer that's all. She had never imagined it would be so soon!

* * *

><p>Tommy Branson clutched his champagne glass, releasing a low growl from his throat as he watched the sinfully rich men twirl their affluent women around the ballroom, basking in the flow of the steady classical orchestra which, tried as it might, could not drown out the thunderous echo of bombs raining down upon London. Tommy almost laughed out loud in disgust as he his thoughts fleetingly wandered to his father and what he'd say if he saw him now, scattered amongst these indolent idiots, deliberately oblivious to the suffering which erupted outside the walls of this lush, marble cosseted hotel. God, it was sickening to witness, it was sickening to be here! But this was Jude Fanshawe's New Year's Eve party which meant that the cream of British Nazi spies would be attending tonight. Fanshawe had gone out of his way to make sure that Tommy and his 'friend' had been invited which meant that all those months of kissing his backside must have finally paid off!<p>

Tommy glugged down the dregs of his champagne before slamming it back on a passing tray and helping himself to a new flute, feeling rather dizzy.

"Easy Branson," Scott murmured with a warning edge to his tone, creeping up to the young agent with swift ease. "You don't want to let that tongue of yours get too loose. God only knows what you'll come out with."

Tommy heaved an irritated sigh, longing to tug at the stiff collar of his dinner-jacket until it came loose. "Well isn't that why Blackwell sent you to tag along? So you could babysit me and make sure I don't let my Irish persona get the better of me?"

"We are all under a lot of pressure Branson," Scott replied evenly, closing his eyes in controlled patience. "Let's just try and focus on the job all right?"

"I am focusing on the job!" Tommy protested with indignation, lowering his voice an inch as an aristocratic couple breezed past them. He took a deep breath to collect himself together and then said in a much calmer voice, "I take it you've found a few more rats?"

"Oh yes." Scott muttered darkly. They scanned the room, subtly pointing out the people who may be prime suspects. Most of them were the highest in elite society. Another low crash reverberated overhead, this time shaking the glasses and furniture a little. Yet the party ploughed on, seemingly unfazed by it all.

Tommy swallowed over the thumping lump of fear rising in his throat, casting a nervous glance up at the ceiling where the sound of bombs destroying London once again, was being made abundantly clear despite the artificial music and gaiety. "You'd think they could spare us during Christmas at least." He sighed.

Scott glowered at the couples mingling amongst the room, deliberately oblivious to the haunting rumbles. "How these people – how anyone can side with Hitler when he's dropping bombs on their city is beyond me!" He said with incredulity smothering his voice, "I mean – Buckingham Palace got hit for crying out loud! Surely that's a definite sign of treason? Siding with the people who try to bomb the monarchy's home?"

"We need evidence first!" Tommy hissed, "And in order to get that we need to shove our personal feelings aside and do this job properly if we want to succeed in taking them down."

"Isn't that what I've been saying to you this past year Branson?" Scott responded in a huff.

* * *

><p>"Papa either sit down or go and see what's happening but for heaven's sake stop pacing because all you're doing is making me nervous!" Edward snapped without looking up from the top of his book. Once he had burst into the dining room, yelling for help, all the men had been promptly shoved into the library (save Benjamin who hadn't liked being sent to bed at such an early hour) and told to wait while the women seized the reins.<p>

"How can you be reading at a time like this?" Joseph shot out incredulously, sticking out his glass tumbler for a refill of scotch. Matthew tipped some of the liquor into his glass and then poured a much larger measure into his own.

Edward shrugged, "I don't see what there is to panic about. Rebecca's tough enough and Dr Green knows what he's doing."

The deep chimes of the clock rang clearly through the room, signalling the end of the year and the beginning of a brand new one.

"Forty-one." Edward said in disbelief, "And we're still at war."

"Hopefully it'll be shorter than the last one." Joseph responded absently, gazing up at his father, "What's wrong Papa?"

"You don't think there could be complications?" Matthew responded, his hands twisting into knots of anxiety, "Only it's been hours and..." He threw a glance at the door, "We haven't received any news."

"Yet." Edward added with emphasis, "We haven't received any news yet. Now please sit down Papa and stop worrying." He said impatiently.

"I can't help it!" Matthew retorted, running a nervous hand through his hair and necking back his scotch. "I have to worry. It's who I am."

Edward laughed out loud at that. Joseph shot him an exasperated look before rising from his seat and following his father's trail around the room.

"Oh, for God's sake not you too!" Edward groaned, shuffling lower into his seat and turning the page with frustration. "You're doing it just to irritate me now!"

"Anything irritates you." Joseph mumbled with an amused smirk.

Edward glimmered at him over the top of his book but was saved from responding due to the pattering of scurrying feet outside the door. All the Crawley men jolted their eyes towards the door, their bodies growing rigid with anticipation.

The door creaked open.

Cora slipped into the library. She leaned against the door while she wiped the tears away from her eyes, staring at the boys and Matthew with a watery smile.

Matthew's legs started shaking, so much so Joseph had to help him into a seat. He turned towards his mother-in-law, forcing the words out of his mouth, no matter how much he feared the answer. He had to know.

"Is Rebecca all right?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>January 1st 1941<strong>_

Mary dabbed her daughter's forehead, cheeks and neck with a wet sponge, biting her shaking lip in order to stop the tears from breaking loose while she watched her cradle the small bundle in her arms, her eyes glazed with fear and awe. Gradually Mary wrung the sponge out in the bowl beside the bed, trying to organize the steady flow of emotions that threatened to engulf her.

"You've been so brave." She whispered with a cracked smile. Rebecca returned the smile half-heartedly, swallowing hard as she turned her gaze back to the baby. The sweet little baby who lay curled under the blankets, a wisp of chestnut hair peeking over the top while her dark brown eyes stared quizzically at her surroundings. Mary felt her heart clench for the hundredth time that night. "She looks just like you did when you were born." Not a trace of Tim anywhere in her features thank God, she thought with relief.

"She's so precious." Georgina said with a tearful smile, "I can't believe she's here."

"Neither can I." Rebecca muttered in a voice so quiet it could have been part of the wind.

"What are you going to call her?" Isobel asked softly as she started to clear away the soiled sheets.

Rebecca looked up in surprise, "Me? Oh, no – I – I think Mama should be the one to name her." She gave her mother a trembling smile which only worsened Mary's anguish. "She's your child after all."

"I think you should pick her name." Mary said with as much grace as she could muster, "It's only right after everything you've been through. And she is a beautiful girl."

Rebecca dithered for a moment, staring at the stunning baby in her arms. "Emily." She said simply, stroking the baby's delicate cheek with her thumb. "I think we should call her Emily Anne."

"After your favourite doll?" Mary asked, reaching out a finger stroke the baby's delicate ear.

"After the two overshadowed Bronte sisters." Rebecca said quietly. Mary exchanged a look with Isobel but didn't say anything.

"Lady Emily Anne Crawley." Georgina sniffed, wiping away a stray tear. "I think it suits her well."

"I feel tired." Rebecca announced suddenly, her voice hoarse ridden from the hours of screaming. "You can - take her now Mama." She shifted the baby into her mother's arms with great care. "I want to sleep now."

"Of course my darling." Mary whispered as she accepted the baby – Emily, with loving tenderness, "We'll let you get some rest." She motioned for Isobel and Georgina to exit the room which they did after kissing Rebecca goodnight. Mary hung back for a while, watching her daughter shuffle down into the sheets with a wistful expression flickering upon her pretty features.

"Darling you know it's going to get easier." Mary said with forced reassurance sewn into her voice. "I know it may not seem like it now. But in time -"

"Mama." Rebecca interrupted, her voice cracking with suppressed emotion. "I thought this day would never come. Now it's over, all I want to do is sleep."

Mary felt her bottom lip tremble but she forced herself to regain her composure as Emily started to mew. "All right. Goodnight my darling. I do love you."

She swiftly left the room, gently bouncing her new baby daughter in tow. Emily blinked curiously up at her, cooing softly. Mary smiled down at her, "Hello Emily my precious darling. Don't be startled, I'm your Mama. And I love you too."

* * *

><p>"You did well tonight Agent Branson, Agent Jensen." Agent Blackwell said with a strained smile as he addressed the young agents in front of him. "I think you've earned a week's rest in compensation before we - continue."<p>

"Are you all right sir?" Tommy asked in concern, noticing the elder man's troubled expression and the fact that he wouldn't make eye contact with either of them.

Blackwell's eyes clouded over. "Not really Agent Branson no. You see – it appears that some new information has surfaced and I'm not really sure what to make of it all."

"Well, can we help?" Scott asked hesitantly.

Blackwell rubbed a hand over his eyes, saying with a mixture of fierce anger and sadness, "I'm sorry boys. But I'm afraid the work you've been doing has grown immensely complicated over the last few months." Finally Blackwell looked directly at them. "You see it turns out that there are more spies than we thought. Not just British Nazi spies but – well, German spies too. Right here in Britain."

"That's impossible!" Scott blurted out in disbelief, "The channel is being closely guarded, especially since Dunkirk -!"

"Ah but you're forgetting the Battle of Britain Agent Jensen." Blackwell interrupted with a sad smile, "Lots of Pilots parachuted out of their aircrafts into the heart of the countryside or city."

"But I thought they were caught?" Tommy countered through narrowed eyes.

"Well, it turns out that the German drop-ins we had are actually more than what we predicted a few months ago. Now, most of them were arrested and are currently being held prisoner here but those that haven't..."

"Are running loose among the country." Tommy finished with a sarcastic nod. "Wonderful."

"We have to find them." Scott said suddenly, "There's no time to even think about it. Every second we waste is a second closer to losing the war!"

"It's a little more complicated than that I'm afraid Agent Jensen." Blackwell said anxiously, "We have a lot of ground to cover and like you said, time is of the essence. The spies will keep coming and we need to be ready, we need to find them."

"So what's the problem?" Tommy asked impatiently.

"We can't operate from the city anymore Agent Branson." Blackwell replied in subtle anguish. "It's far too risky to hold our base in London. We need to find a more reclusive hub, somewhere out of sight out of mind. Until we find a place, Operation Poison needs to be put on hold."

A sharp cord had been struck. Tommy's head snapped up, his mind whirring with a sudden...possibility... could they do it? No, they couldn't possibly! Could they?

"You can't put Operation Poison on hold!" Scott griped, "Agent Branson and I - we have potential leads which could -".

Blackwell held up a reluctant hand to stop him. "I'm sorry, both of you," He said in a voice filled with sincere regret, "It's not what I hoped when I drafted you into MI5 but – the situation remains as it is. We cannot work from the city, it's too obvious."

Scott rounded on Tommy, "Branson – Tommy, please feel free to say something!" He implored. "Or else they'll walk free and our hard work will all be for nothing!"

Tommy took a deep, tentative breath, ready to pitch his suggestion. "All right, listen. I think I know a solution to our problem and it's standing right in front of my eyes. We'd be mad not to even consider it as a possibility."

Blackwell frowned with interest, "It sounds intriguing Branson. Go on."

"Downton Abbey." Tommy said without a beat. "It's our only solution."

Scott exchanged a puzzled glance with Blackwell. "Sorry, what is Downton Abbey?" He asked in polite confusion.

"My Aunt and Uncle are the Earl and Countess of Grantham!" Tommy stated with wide eyes, "Their estate is called Downton Abbey." He flicked a burning gaze towards Blackwell, "Which is situated near a quaint village called Downton. In North Yorkshire."

Blackwell's eyes lit up, "Really?"

Tommy nodded.

"Well – will they agree?" Blackwell asked with some trepidation at the prospect of being rejected.

"If I explain to them the seriousness of the situation I think they'll have to." Tommy said quietly.

* * *

><p>Joseph released a long held sigh of relief as he collapsed into an armchair in the library. "What a way to start the New Year." He commented in awe.<p>

Georgina settled her walker to the side before easing herself into a seat. "At least Rebecca can come back home now."

Edward chuckled darkly from his position in front of the fireplace as he prodded a poker into the dying embers. "Now we have another little brat, I mean sister to look after. Oh joy."

"I think it'll be fun." Georgina said with defiance, a smug grin creeping upon her lips. "Crawley girls are the best."

"Oh of course." Edward replied with sincerity, rising to his feet and adding, "But Crawley boys are better."

Georgina hurled a pillow at him, not caring that it was unladylike to do so. Edward batted it away swiftly while he danced tauntingly in front of her.

"Not in the library you two." Joseph chided tiredly from his armchair.

Edward turned to him in a teasing manner, "Yes Papa!"

Joseph rolled his eyes at him, "I'm not like Papa."

"You did sound like him just then." Georgina said with a smirk.

"I did not!"

"And again." Edward added, reclining on the sofa and stretching his legs out to reach the heat from the fire. "I tell you what I'm looking forward to this year. Watching Mama and Papa raise Emily." His whole face itched with laughter, "I would pay good money to see that!"

Georgina sighed at him, "Must you always be so crude about your own family?"

"Yes." Edward answered simply. "But only because it's my family. If anyone else was – I'd take them down."

"Like you took down those Italian soldiers?" Joseph asked casually, careful to tread around this dangerous topic.

Edward's face however, didn't reveal a flicker of emotion at all. He merely nodded. "Yes. Exactly. Indestructible me."

Georgina scoffed and turned away, "Oh please."

The shrill cry of the phone jolted the three eldest Crawley's out of there relaxed reverie. They all groaned in unison.

"Edward answer the phone." Joseph ordered lazily.

"You answer it!" Edward fired back. "You're closer!"

"I'm the oldest!" Joseph huffed.

"Exactly, so lead by example and answer the phone." Edward responded as if this closed the matter.

Still glaring at his brother Joseph hauled himself out of his armchair and answered the phone. "Joseph Crawley."

_"Joe? Joe it's Tommy."_

"Tommy?" Joseph repeated, exchanging surprised glanced with his siblings, "Is everything all right?"

_"Actually... I called to wish you a Happy New Year."_ Tommy said in a resigned tone.

"Oh." Joseph replied in disappointment, "Happy New Year to you too." He heard another voice on the other end, scolding Tommy.

_"No, wait, Joe that's not what I wanted to say!"_ Tommy said quickly, _"I don't have a lot of time and I need to ask you now."_

Joseph frowned, "I'm listening Tommy."

* * *

><p>"Matthew you're hogging her!" Mary grumbled with a fond smile as she watched her husband tend to their – daughter with pure unadulterated love. They were settled in the new nursery, still trying to come to terms with the reality of their situation. They should be celebrating the birth of their first grandchild; instead they were celebrating the birth of their sixth child and were faced with the daunting task of raising her in a world that was doused with evil.<p>

"I'm sorry but I'm completely besotted and I'm not ashamed to admit it." Matthew breathed, gazing upon the baby lying snugly in his arms, her little button nose twitching in her sleep while she dreamt her first dream. And Matthew so hoped it was a pleasant one. "She's perfect. Absolutely perfect." He glanced at his wife with a look of regret etched upon his face, "I'm sorry I thought...at the beginning -"

Mary shook her head quickly, "Don't mention it. You were upset over Rebecca and wanted to protect her."

"But this is the right way to do that." Matthew said softly, nodding at the sleeping babe, "I agree now." He carefully placed Emily back inside her crib, Mary crept over to them and for the longest time they just watched her sleep, an unspoken vow hovering between them. That they'd smother this new child with all the love they could give her and never ever let the truth reach her innocent ears.

Matthew slowly turned to his wife with a small frown.

"What's the matter?" Mary asked in concern.

Matthew pressed a finger to lips and ushered her out of the nursery. Once they were alone in the hallway he whispered, "I know this isn't the right time to tell you but I feel I have to."

Mary gazed at him wearily. "Heavens. Let me hear it."

"I recieved a call from the War Office today." Matthew replied evenly, "Regarding the HMS Worthington, the ship that saved Ed. I was making enquiries into them, in order to send them our gratitude for saving Edward."

Mary's eyes flickered with interest, "And?"

Matthew shrugged, a troubled expression spreading over his features. "It seems as if the Naval Officers have just vanished off the face of the earth. There's no trace of them anywhere."

Mary's face fell in shock. "What?" She shot out, careful to keep her voice down. "That's utterly ridiculous, they can't have just vanished!"

"That's exactly what I think too. Oh, don't fret they're looking into it." Matthew added lightly, "It's what they'll find when they do is what I'm worried about."

Mary stared at him, her stomach lurching unpleasantly at the implication behind his words. "Well it can't that bad surely?" At Matthew's pensive look she pressed further, her voice a little more diffident. "Can it? Matthew?"

Matthew just looked at her. He didn't reply.

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><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	42. The Contract

**Author's Note:**Hey, thanks again for all the reviews and support, it helped me get this chapter done quickly! I get some peeps were a bit, whoa, about the time jump thing - but trust me after you read this chapter, you'll see why I had to get things moving into 1941, I mean, we still have about 4 more years of war and angst heading our way! So look out!

Now, where do I even begin to explain this chapter? It takes place over one whole day and involves the three eldest siblings keeping a very important secret from their parents, (later on father). Also, there is a mention of clarissa... But this chapter deals with so much, and I mean a lot has been crammed in!

So enjoy and please tell me what you think! x

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 42 – The Contract<span>**

**_January 10th 1941_**

Edward Crawley pushed open the door of Benjamin's playroom without knocking, a special envelope clutched in his hand. "Benji have you seen Joe or Georgina anywhere? I really have to talk to them."

Benjamin shook his head from the corner of the playroom, turning back to his Spitfire jigsaw puzzle with a sulky frown. Edward sighed and stalked into the room. "All right, what's wrong now?"

"Why is the new baby so special?" Benjamin asked in a huff, "All she does is sleep and cry."

Edward raised his brow humorously, "You used to do that too. Of course you don't remember but you were the biggest cry baby!"

Benjamin's little brow furrowed in anger, "I wasn't a cry baby!"

Edward nodded in a teasing manner, "You really were."

"Oh just ignore him Benji," Matthew said gently, strolling into the playroom with a smile. Edward surreptitiously poked the thick envelope into his pocket. "Edward was the biggest cry baby out of all of you! And he could sleep through anything!"

Benjamin giggled while Edward scowled. "You wouldn't have happened to see Joe or Georgie anywhere have you?" He asked irritably.

"Not since breakfast no," Matthew replied, still sharing an amused grin with his youngest. "Why?"

Edward shrugged, feigning innocence which was a task he never quite managed to pull off in his father's presence. "Oh, no reason in particular," He responded, trying to keep his tone light, "I just wanted to talk to them about – something." At Matthew's quizzical look he pressed on, "Involving the – uh, latest situation in Germany. That's all." He gave a pointed glance at Benjamin who was ear wigging every word. "But now isn't the time to go into all of that. So...yes..."

Edward then proceeded to scurry out of the playroom but Matthew subtly blocked his path, his eyes on Benjamin yet saying to his son, in a casual voice laced with intense inquisitiveness, "Is there something I should be aware of Edward?"

The second Crawley son arranged his face into what he hoped was a neutral expression though his heart thudded as he shrugged again, his fingers tightening around the envelope. "Not that I know of Papa."

Dissatisfied with his answer, Matthew tilted his head to the side in an accusatory manner matching his low tone, "Edward if there is something -"

"Papa, can you do this four-hundred piece Spitfire jigsaw puzzle with me?" Benjamin interrupted, gesturing to his fragmentary puzzle with a look of such excitement spreading into his face.

Matthew's face however, drooped into weariness. "Four hundred piece?" He droned politely, casting a wary eye at the many – many, many pieces strewn upon the table. "Uh, well Benji – you see the thing is, Edward and I -"

"Oh well far be it from be to keep you from this – wonderful father- son moment." Edward interjected cheerily, a thin smirk leaking across his lips as he clapped his father on the back, "You two have fun with your – four hundred piece jigsaw puzzle. I'm going to be – on my way."

Still keeping the letter hidden, he darted out of the playroom leaving Matthew to stare enquiringly after him. Slowly he turned back to Benjamin with a strained smile on his face as his son budged his chair up to make room.

* * *

><p>Finally Edward managed to seek his brother and sister out after hunting around most of the house. In a fluster he pushed open the drawing room to see them both seated around the coffee table, drinking tea and chatting. They looked up as soon as he walked in.<p>

"Ah, good afternoon Edward." Joseph said absently, "I was just coming to talk to you actually."

"Really?" Edward responded in an irked manner, "Because I've been hunting around the house like a headless chicken to talk to you, but you've both been in here, drinking tea, while we're supposed to be on a very serious deadline!"

Joseph sighed and put down his cup as Georgina turned to her eldest brother with an interrogative frown. "What sort of a deadline is he talking about?"

Before Joseph could reply Edward held up the envelope for them both to see, "This came for Papa just after breakfast." He handed it directly to his brother who accepted the letter, his curious frown stiffening into a look of apprehension.

"Oh God," Joseph swallowed, "Has Papa...?"

"Luckily, no." Edward answered curtly, "I managed to sneak it off the tray just in time."

Joseph released a sigh of relief, "Oh thank God!"

"Yes and a thank you Edward wouldn't hurt either!" Edward huffed as he settled himself into an armchair.

"Thank you Ed." Joseph said with sincerity, his fingers brushing over the letter, "I mean it."

His brother merely shrugged, "Well, I've only bought us some more time. But I don't think we can hide it any longer."

"Can someone please explain to me what's going on?" Georgina implored wearily, "Because I do hate it when you both speak riddles. And why are you snatching Papa's letters?"

Joseph handed his sister the envelope, "Here, it's from the Military Intelligence Office. Read it." He said thinly.

"And try not to berate us after you have." Edward added sternly as Georgina ripped the envelope open, unfolding the paper and scanning its contents.

Both Crawley brothers exchanged looks of trepidation as they watched Georgina's confused frown morph into a look of indignation which was so like their mother's they had to lower their gaze to the floor in mild shame.

"This is a contract from Military Intelligence, Section Five." Georgina said slowly. "MI5?"

"Very good." Edward mumbled sardonically, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

"Granting them access to use Downton as a hub for their Operation..." She trailed off in confusion, "I didn't know Papa and Mama agreed to Tommy's suggestion? Is it all settled now?"

Joseph pursed his lips, glancing at his brother before replying sheepishly, "Not exactly..."

"Do they know about this?" She asked through narrowed eyes as she brandished the contract at them.

"Well obviously not!" Edward retorted loudly, gesturing to the contract in her hands, "Otherwise we wouldn't be in here trying to figure out how to tell them would we?"

"Keep your voice down Ed!" Joseph chided, throwing a pointed glance at the door, "Anyone can hear you!"

Georgina looked from one brother to the other in suspicion before the penny finally dropped. "Oh, I see what you've done." She said coolly with a nod of confirmation as she proceeded to fold up the contract, "You've gone behind our parents back and accepted Tommy's proposal without consulting either of them at all and now you're faced with the demoralizing ordeal of telling them what you've done."

"I told you not to berate us," Edward muttered in annoyance.

"Oh no I think I'll leave that to Papa." Georgina said casually, taking a sip of tea, "Or Mama. And I think they'll do much more than berate you. Beat you more like. At least Mama probably will."

"Georgina -"

"What did you think you were doing?" She snapped, "Are you both so utterly stupid you would lie to M15 and your own parents?"

"We didn't lie!" Edward protested, "We just haven't told them yet. And as for MI5, well - Papa did say he wanted to use Downton as hub for Intelligence so we're doing him a favour!"

"Oh is that you what you call it?" Georgina countered lightly, "Then why keep it from him? Why go behind his back and organize this all by yourself?"

"Because you know what's going on in Papa's head. Ever since we visited Denville Hall, I think he feels morally obliged to offer Downton up so it can play its part in this war." Joseph said sharply, forcing both his siblings into silence. "I'm sorry I have to say this but it's true. He was making all sorts of excuses because of the baby and now she's here we've got a clear path and he's still putting it off!"

"She's only just been born, give him time." Georgina said in disbelief.

"Ti – we haven't got time!" Edward hissed, leaning forward in his seat, "Don't you understand that? We can't keep sitting around waiting for Papa to pull his finger out!" At their shocked reprimanding looks he added dully, "I'm sorry if I sound rude but it's the truth. This has to be done now! You have to be cruel to be kind."

"Cruel to be kind?" Georgina breathed in a calm fury, "Poor Papa. His own sons plotting behind his back."

Joseph rounded on his sister, "We haven't been plotting anything!"

"Well we sort of have been," Edward said sheepishly.

"Don't help." Joseph chided through gritted teeth.

"I cannot believe you just think Papa's 'morally obliged' to offer up Downton." Georgina shot back, doing nothing to keep the anger out of her voice.

"Right, now you have to admit his morality does dictate his life," Edward stated emphatically, "And we can put up with it but sometimes he just gets so woe is me and..." He clenched his hands into fists in order to convey his frustration.

Georgina opened her mouth to argue but then realized her brother actually had a point. "Oh fair enough. But that still doesn't excuse what you said."

"I didn't mean it in a harsh way," Joseph responded gently, "I think that Papa feels useless during this war because he's just watching from the sidelines. He's been trying to find some use for Downton but it's failing miserably because no one really needs us."

"Until now." Edward counter-joined with a raised brow.

"You didn't hear how desperate Tommy was. Once Papa hears his story I know he'll allow it." Joseph said with conviction.

Georgina stared at him, "What exactly did Tommy say to you Joe?"

Joseph lowered his voice, "In a nutshell, he said there are Nazi spies crawling amongst us, is in this country. They could be a friend, a neighbour, a person you meet on the street. No one is safe." Georgina stifled a gasp. "Exactly. Now, Tommy's group are hunting these people down. They need to do their job and they need a reclusive space to do it in." The young heir straightened up in resolution, "Downton can offer them all the space they need. And much, much more."

"And you couldn't have given this speech to Papa?" Georgina asked softly.

"We haven't really had the time to be honest," Joseph replied with a hollow laugh at the irony of it all. "Papa seems so distracted after Edward got back..." He shot an apologetic look at his brother who just waved it away dismissively. "Look this is not about loyalty. Of course we're loyal to Papa."

Georgina nodded, her expression remaining neutral. "All right if you say so."

"I do." Joseph said firmly. "Now, I spoke to Tommy after New Year's Day and told him that Papa's on board." He ignored his sister's small tut of disapproval. "It might take us a while to get clearance and there are all sorts of documents that need to be signed by Papa, including the National Secrets Act which everyone in the house will have to sign as well. But apparently the chief agents are going to meet with him to sign it all properly. They need to be witnessed or done in person or something like that."

"Which is why we have to tell Mama and Papa before they turn up." Edward said in exasperation as Georgina extracted a small slip of paper hidden within the folds of the envelope. "Otherwise we'll all be in trouble."

"At least now we have enough time to try and think of a way to broach it with them gently." Joseph said calmly.

"Well you might not have as much time as you think Joe." Georgina said in a measured voice as she stared at the slip of paper in front of her.

Joseph frowned, "What do you mean? What's that?"

"This?"Georgina held up the letter, saying with complete flippancy, "Oh this is just a letter saying that they'll be here to sign all those documents tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning!" Edward yelped, leaping out of his seat and snatching the letter off his sister and glaring at it.

"She's joking isn't she?" Joseph asked, his face turning pale.

"Nope, she's not." Edward said in a clipped voice, thrusting the letter towards his brother and raking his hand through his hair in agitation. "We're in for it now."

"Well you were always going to be 'in for it' whether it be today or tomorrow." Georgina said, unable to keep the smugness out of her voice. Edward glared at her forcing her to relent a little, "At least now you can't put off telling them. You'll have to do it sometime today so they'll have a chance to breathe a little before the morning."

"Right, it's time to divide and conquer." Joseph said in a steady voice. "I think it's best we tackle Mama and Papa separately so – Georgie you handle Mama and Edward and I will take on Papa."

"Excuse me?" Georgina responded in a tone dripping with indignation, "Why should I help you get out of this mess?"

"Because you're our sister and you love us." Edward replied with indifference, pacing around the room, "Also, you're the only one of us who can handle Mama." He glanced at her and muttered, "Because you're so like her when you get angry."

The door scraped open, prompting the three of them to jump. Joseph hastily stuffed the papers down the side of the sofa as Mary swept into the drawing room adjusting her gloves.

"Ah, here you all are." She stated with a smile, wavering slightly as her three eldest children stood at the centre of the room with nervous grins plastered on their faces. She knew those looks. They were up to something. She furrowed her brows, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." They trilled in unison only confirming her suspicions.

Mary scrutinized them all, "Right. Well, I'm taking Emily and Rebecca to see your Grandmama for tea. I was wondering if any of you wanted to come with us." She looked at Georgina hopefully.

Georgina knew how much her mother wanted to spend time with her but now just didn't seem like the best moment. "No, it's all right Mama. I've drunk enough tea for today." She knew the excuse sounded pathetic but right now, she had to find a way to help her brothers out of this mess.

"I see, well never mind." Mary said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice, "I'll see you all later then."

Mary turned to leave but was called back quickly. "Mama!" Edward took a step forward, next to his sister, "I'm sure Georgina would love to come with you," He said, giving his sister a very pointed stare.

Georgina narrowed her eyes slightly. "Would I?" She asked with a questioning tilt to her voice, "I thought you wanted me here?"

Mary's gaze was now so intense it could be felt upon the whole room.

Edward merely shot a charming smile at her before pressing on in a tone laced with mild desperation, "Yes but I'm sure Mama could always use your company. And maybe you all could talk." At Georgina's confused glare he gritted his teeth and ploughed on, "About things." He rolled his eyes around the room, indicating they talk about Downton.

Understanding melted across Georgina's face as she turned back to her mother and nodded. "Oh, yes. Yes of course I'll come to Grandmama's with you Mama. Let me get my hat and coat." She cast her brothers an emphatic look before ushering her suspicious mother out by the arm.

Once they had gone, Joseph turned to his brother with wide eyes. "What was that about? Did you see the look on Mama's face? She definitely knows something's wrong!"

"Then it'll be easier for Georgina to tell her." Edward replied with prominence.

Joseph heaved a sigh. "I suppose. Come on, we'd better start writing a speech on what we're going to say to Papa." He proceeded to exit the drawing room, his brother trailing behind him.

"Can't we just make it up as we go along?" Edward asked, trying to keep the whine to a minimum.

Joseph just chuckled wearily; they shut the door behind them, completely forgetting the stack of papers that had been shoved down the side of the sofa.

* * *

><p>It had just gone five when the ladies returned from the Dower House. Joseph and Edward Crawley had spent the rest of the day, showering their attention on their baby brother in order to distract themselves from their mother's potential reprimand.<p>

They were seated cross-legged on the floor in Benjamin's playroom, leaning against the bookcase and watching him chatter excitedly about his warships game, explaining each of the pieces to them while they nodded in polite interest. Once he had scuttled off to the corner, Joseph turned to Edward, lowering his voice so Benji wouldn't hear.

"I didn't mean to sound harsh earlier on Ed." He said in a tone drenched with regret. At Edward's confused look he explained, "When I said that Papa wasn't focusing on the war effort because you'd returned home in the state you were in."

"Oh that." Edward shrugged indifferently, picking up a toy ship and examining it, "I forgot all about it."

"Still, I am sorry." They watched their youngest brother play for a while before Joseph finally took a breath and said cautiously, "Look Ed – if you want to talk about what happened out there... I'm here, Papa's here – we're all here for you."

Edward closed his eyes in brief annoyance, "I know and thank you. But I've told everyone everything there is to say." He replied curtly, staring at the darkening sky through the playroom window.

"I know." Joseph said slowly, dropping his voice even lower. "However, I can't help but feel that there's more to the story about the HMS Worthington than you're letting on."

Edward snapped his gaze towards his brother, "Why would you think that?" He asked sharply.

Joseph merely shrugged, "I've known you all your life. It's just a hunch that's all." He watched his brother carefully before adding, "And I'm not the only one." Edward's head twitched in his direction. "Papa thinks so too. I can tell. I'm more observant than people give me credit for. I have instincts."

"Right, well ignore it." It wasn't an order or a command but the tone of Edward's voice forced the eldest Crawley to shut up.

They both straightened up stiffly when they heard the crunch of gravel outside and the luminous light flickering on the window which suggested that a car had just pulled up.

"They're back." Edward said with a grim expression, he climbed to his feet and offered his brother a hand up. "We should brace ourselves."

"Cheer up." Joseph said with a small smile, "Once we get past all the scolding we'll feel much better knowing our home is being put to good use in this war."

Edward tore his eyes away. "If you say so."

* * *

><p>Lady Mary, Countess of Grantham stood at the centre of the library with her hands clasped in front of her while her eyes burned with rage as she addressed her boys. "I just want to let you both know that I feel thoroughly angry at what you've done!"<p>

Joseph and Edward nodded, their eyes glued to the floor in shame as the whiplash tongue of their mother struck them all.

"While I understand that you're doing all of this for a good reason, I feel absolutely shocked that you should think to go to such lengths to arrange something like this behind our backs!" As Edward opened his mouth to argue she swiftly cut across him, "I'm still talking!" He forced his mouth shut.

Mary gathered herself together, as composed as she could be before saying icily, "Now, Georgina tells me that the Head of MI5 will be here in the morning to sign some papers with your father."

"Yes but Papa still needs to sign a rental agreement." Edward said quickly, avoiding all eye contact with his mother as he added, "Preferably before tomorrow."

Mary's eyes glazed over with incredulity. "Brilliant. Of course had we been given some notice, maybe could've planned it all properly instead of springing it on your poor father last minute! Now, I suggest that you tell him after dinner. Let him have some food – and a drink – or two inside him before you ambush him with the contract."

"Yes Mama." Joseph said in a timid voice, wringing his hands anxiously as he dared to ask the next question. "But you see – we were thinking that maybe – well, maybe..."

Mary stared at him with a sneaking suspicion that she could guess what he was about to ask. "Maybe what Joseph?"

Edward rolled his eyes, "We were thinking that maybe you could tell Papa for us." He said straight up. Joseph glared at him in disbelief.

Mary however gave both her boys a sharp chuckle. "No I don't think so my darlings. This is your doing therefore you need to face the music yourselves."

Edward huffed in annoyance, "Mama! You've already scolded us as if we were naughty children still stuck in the nursery! Can't you at least help us now you know?"

Mary pursed her lips tightly before replying, "This is serious Edward Samuel. This isn't some petty little incident which earns you a place on the naughty step. Now, if your father decides against it – which he might and I won't blame him for all the time he's had to think about it - I will help support your cause. But only after you've told him."

Both boys faces fell as the reality of what they had done suddenly crashed upon them. Tomorrow their father would have to face the Head of MI5 in order to loan them his house during the war, for a very secret operation and he had no idea about it.

"Papa's going to kill us." Joseph whispered.

Mary just smiled at him. "Yes I suppose he will. Now if you'd both excuse me, I'm going to go and change before dinner." She breezed out of the library with a small smirk settled on her face as she left both her sons to writhe in their folly.

* * *

><p>Joseph Crawley adjusted the stiff collar of his dinner jacket as he shuffled across the hallway of the Bachelor's corridor, running into his brother who stepped out of his room, almost slamming the door in fustration.<p>

Joseph grinned sympathetically at him, "Do you think we could use a little Dutch courage before we face Papa?"

"Forget that, I need it now!" Edward replied in exasperation, heading along the corridor and galloping downstairs.

"Eddie wait!" Joseph called in a hush, following him with smooth elegance.

Edward paused at the foot of the stairs, turning to his brother in acknowledgement. "What is it?" He asked impatiently.

Joseph gave him an impish smile. "I don't know if Mama's told you, though I doubt she has, but apparently she's planning to invite the Deveroe's and the Denville's for dinner soon."

Edward stifled a groan, "What? Why, what do I have to do to make her see that I'm not interested in Lady Clarissa Deveroe! And what is the point in Mama's dinners now? We can't have any special meals because each of us has to have our food rationed and I still don't know what I'm doing."

Joseph sucked in a subtle breath. "So you won't be returning to the army then?" He asked, careful to keep his tone on an even keel.

Edward huffed, "Papa said I'm too young and I should either wait or join the Royal Navy."

Joseph stared at him. "Well - are you?"

Edward heaved a sigh of dismissal, "I don't know. For the first time in my life, I genuinely don't know. Now can we focus on the task tonight please? Have you got the MI5 contract?"

* * *

><p>Mary pushed open the door of Emily's nursery, creeping in with a loving smile on her face as her husband turned to face her, returning the smile and then his gaze back to the sleeping baby in her crib.<p>

"I thought you'd be in here." Mary whispered, "We can't seem to drag you away from her these days." She rested her hand on his back and peered into the crib where Emily lay, enveloped protectively in a pink bundle of blankets. They chuckled softly as she squirmed under the blankets, little cooing sounds issuing from her rosy lips. Her eyelids fluttered open briefly enough to see the two faces gazing down at her with such devotion, before she drifted off back to sleep.

"It still seems so odd having a baby in the house again." Matthew said in a hush, unable to resist reaching out a forefinger and stroking his daughter's petal-soft cheek. "And I still can't believe that our other children used to be this tiny!"

Mary giggled, "I know. But just you wait. She'll soon have you wrapped around her little finger!"

"I'm counting on it!" Matthew replied with a chortle, resting his elbows on the crib.

It was on the tip of Mary's tongue to blurt out everything his sons had done, but she quickly decided against it. Let him have these last few hours of blissful ignorance before everything comes to a head.

Matthew's warm expression suddenly grew sad and wistful. "And she really does look just like Rebecca."

Mary closed her eyes, resting her head on her husband's shoulder. "We're lucky to have such beautiful girls then." She reminded him. She didn't know what else she could say. That something so good could come out of something so horrible?

"Have you noticed the children behaving rather oddly?" Matthew asked with a peculiar expression.

Mary's eyes snapped open. "The children? Behaving oddly? Oh, I can't think what you mean." She lied smoothly.

"Well it's probably nothing." Matthew said with a wave of dismissal, "I suppose I'm just being paranoid that's all."

No, you're not, Mary wanted to whisper but she just couldn't bring herself to tell him. Instead, she forced her anxiety back down and tried to change the subject.

"How's your investigation into those poor Naval Officers going?" She asked lightly, "Did you find anything out?"

Matthew took his elbows off the crib, hastily casting a glance at the door to check they were alone before replying quietly, "Not much. Today I met up with some people from Naval Intelligence, they were very kind to come all the way down to Ripon just to talk to me."

Mary blanched in surprise. "Really? Did they have anything interesting to say?"

Matthew's shoulders drooped in disappointment, "Only that they still haven't managed to trace these Officers yet, which is still quite worrying as it's been months. But the journey wasn't a complete wasted visit." A mischievous smile leaked across his face. "I do have some good news."

Mary quirked her brow in a teasing manner, "Is that so? And do I get to hear this good news?"

Matthew just smirked, "I think you can wait until I make the announcement at dinner." He gave her a lingering kiss before heading out of the nursery.

Mary hung back, waiting for the Nanny to arrive so she could go down for dinner. A fond smile crept upon her lips as she gazed down at Emily, whispering, "This is going to be a very interesting night for your Papa and brothers my darling. A very interesting night indeed."

* * *

><p>Matthew jauntily strode downstairs, feeling a slight weight lifted off his shoulders. He meant what he had said to Mary. Today hadn't been a complete waste of time, for he had finally found a way to make Downton useful. However his good mood swiftly evaporated as he neared the bottom staircase to see both his sons flitting around the foyer in an agitated fashion, completely oblivious to their father's presence. Matthew crept down the last few steps, his ears pricking up curiously at their conversation.<p>

"What do you mean you've lost them?" Edward muttered furiously to his brother.

"I didn't lose them, I just – misplaced them and I can't remember where I put them!" Joseph replied in a fluster.

"Well, where did you have them last?" Edward through gritted teeth.

"I - I honestly can't remember!" Joseph answered angrily, "I've had a lot on my mind!"

"And I haven't?" Edward retorted in a dangerously low tone.

"Is something the matter?" Matthew's sharp voice snapped through the foyer, causing both Crawley boys to jump in shock.

"Papa!" Joseph said instantly, swallowing hard. "We didn't hear you come down."

"Is everything all right?" Matthew asked in a voice dripping with suspicion as he turned his pointed gaze from one son to the other. "Only, it seemed as if you two were arguing."

Joseph and Edward tried to straighten up in order to level with their father, but the tone in his voice and the questioning glint in his eyes, only reminded them of the excruciating task they had waiting for them after dinner.

"We're fine Papa." Edward said in a bland voice. "Now, if you'd excuse me, I think I need a drink before we go in."

Matthew opened his mouth to argue but his son had already stormed off into the drawing room. The Earl turned to his eldest son with a worried frown curling his brow. "Joe, I am really worried about him. I think he knows more than he cares to let on about - that night."

"Papa," Joseph said in a voice of forced calm, "Most of Edward's regiment are being held captive somewhere and the rest - well the rest are all dead..." He trailed off, both men staring at the ground in disbelief. "He's sixteen years old. And Edward's tough exterior is protecting him from falling apart." Joseph rested a reassuring hand on his father's shoulder, "Give him time and he'll come to you. I promise."

Matthew gave his son a thin smile. "I hope you're right Joe. I hope you're right."

* * *

><p>"So Papa," Edward started in a loud and emphatic voice after they'd started their simple meal, "What do you make of the Nazi party now? Do you think they'll win the war?"<p>

Matthew chewed thoughtfully before answering, "Well I suppose it's touch and go really. I think they know they can't touch us." He shot a proud smile at Joseph, "Thanks to the Battle of Britain. But that doesn't mean they won't still try."

"Of course they'll still try." Mary said, her tone dripping with disdain as she took a dainty sip of wine. "London is still getting bombed isn't it?"

"Yes and the casualties are shooting up by the second." Isobel said in a voice laced with distressed, earning her a comforting look from her daughter-in-law.

"Oh,by the way Edward, before I forget," Matthew said with severity, "I do actually know some chaps in the Royal Navy. They're terribly nice fellows, we became aquainted briefly during the last war, so if you're absolutely serious about joining them then we need to talk -"

"Yes, yes we do Papa," Edward interrupted swiftly, eager to get his point back on track, "It's just..." He arranged his face into a troubled expression. "Right now, I feel quite..." He frantically racked his brain to find the right word to use, "Agitated - to leave you all here, in a country which is crawling with Nazi spies."

Everyone gaped at him.

"The mere idea of it makes me very unnerved," Edward continued with an exaggerating lilt to his voice as he casually cut up his chicken .

Joseph nodded in agreement. "He's right Papa. I mean, Nazi supporters are one thing but to actually make contact with the enemy? We can't have that."

"No we certainly can't." Matthew muttered bitterly, "It's absolutely dispicable. This would never have happened during the last war. Oh, but then again, Germany wasn't being a ruled by an evil dictator so..." He stuffed a potato in his mouth.

Edward writhed impatiently in his seat, perhaps they had opening...

"Yes, it all sounds awful." Mary said curtly, giving her sons pointed stares. "What on earth can we possibly do about it?"

Joseph dove in head in first. "We need to track down all the spies in the country and arrest them!"

Matthew paused, his fork halfway towards his mouth. "Well - yes of course." He said in confusion, "But that does sound rather extravagant even to us."

"No it doesn't." Georgina said quickly, "Think of how much good it could do. Papa, we need to do something to stop this betrayal! It reflects bad on us if we're all here just rattling around in this big empty house when there's so much to be done!"

Matthew gave his daughter a fierce nod, "You're right Georgina! We can't keep rattling around in this big house when there's so much to be done." He wiped his mouth with his napkin and addressed the table, "Which brings me to my big announcement."

Everyone's heads flicked towards the Earl in surprise, curious as to what he had to say now.

Mary could do nothing but stare at him helplessly, plastering on a reassuring smile while her hand automatically reached for her wine glass. "Well, don't keep us in suspense Matthew. Tell us." She suggested, unable to stop her heart from hammering.

"Something good I hope." Isobel added wearily.

Matthew chuckled. "I should think so Mother. Now as you all know, I have been planning to use Downton as a base for Military Intelligence." Both Crawley boys, Georgina and Mary exchanged tense glances. "And today I met Naval Intelligence to discuss with them..." Matthew sidled a glimpse at Edward, "The situation regarding HMS Worthington."

Edward's eyes grew wide with indignation. "Papa, I told you to leave it!" He hurled his napkin onto the table, releasing a groan of frustration.

"I know Edward, I know!" Matthew said hastily, "And we'll – talk later about that. But what I wanted to say was – Naval Intelligence are looking for a place to run their operations, you know, finding ships and that sort of thing." He cast a knowing look at Mary who seemed to have gone rigid with the anticipation of his next words.

And she wasn't the only one.

"Please tell us you offered them the Dower House." Edward said with trepidation creeping into his voice.

Matthew laughed off his comment, "Of course not. I've offered them Downton Abbey!"

Mary's eyes closed in resignation. That was it. He'd said it now, there's no going back.

Matthew reclined back in his chair, beaming at his family in excitement while most of them just gaped at him in utter shock.

"Oh – how marvellous." Georgina said with a false smile.

"Yes, it's a good idea Papa. Well done." Rebecca commented with mild interest.

Edward kicked his brother under the table, "Do something." He murmured urgently.

"This all seems rather hurried," Joseph said with a nervous laugh, tugging at the collar of his dinner jacket before it choked him. "Wouldn't you agree Mama?"

"Yes it does rather." Mary said thinly, knowing both sides to both parties and not knowing whether to laugh or cry at the irony of it all.

"Is everything final then?" Isobel asked.

"It's all settled Mother." Matthew replied happily, his mood only worsening the situation. "I mean, we still need to dot a few I's and cross a few T's but then after that, it'll be official."

"How exciting!" Isobel said, mirroring her son's broad smile which only contrasted to the growing anxiety flowing around the table.

"So you see," Matthew started, in an attempt to reassure them yet doing quite the opposite, "Downton will be used for something useful after all!"

"Are you sure you've thought this through Papa?" The words spilled from Joseph's lips in a panic, "I mean, what do we know about Naval Intelligence? Nothing really."

"Well we can learn." Matthew replied, his grin melting into a frown, "Joe I'm surprised at you. You've been harping on at me to do something with Downton for months and now I've found good usage for it, you shut it down!"

"I'm sure Joe didn't mean it like that darling," Mary said with a nervous titter.

"Of course I didn't." Joseph said, slightly irked. "I – I just want Papa to be sure that's all."

"Well how's this for sure?" Matthew responded, his grin creeping back, "They'll be arriving tomorrow morning with the paperwork! Afterwards it'll be all done and dusted!"

Panic. That was the main emotion which pulsed through the table that night.

"Tomorrow...morning..." Edward repeated with a grimace. "They're coming here, to Downton tomorrow morning to sign an agreement to use this house?"

"Yes."

"They won't be the only ones." Georgina muttered into her water glass, prompting scowls from her brothers.

"What was that darling?" Matthew asked, still in a happy daze.

Georgina shook her head, "Nothing Papa. Just - good luck." She added with a weak smile.

The rest of the meal passed by in a nervous flurry. Both Crawley boys and Mary had lapsed into a frenzied silence. What had they done? Now, two Intelligence units would turn up tomorrow each thinking they had the house for themselves.

As they rose to leave the table, a sharp thought suddenly stuck Mary. "Matthew - have Naval Intelligence given you a contract to sign?"

Matthew shook his head, "No, not yet. I think they want to do everything properly tomorrow." He exited the dining room with Isobel and Rebecca trailing behind him.

Once they had gone, Georgina whipped around to face her mother, "Oh Mama, what do we do? We can't let Tommy down, not now!"

"Of course not!" Mary breathed, keeping her emotions steady. "He's family and family comes first!"

"But Papa -"

"You heard him, he won't be signing the Naval contract until tomorrow," Mary hissed frantically, "So now's your chance! Get MI5's contract and tell him all about it now!" She gestured towards the door, "Otherwise it'll be too late!"

"There's just one problem with that plan Mama." Edward said quietly yet his jaw was ticking with anger. "Joe has lost the contract."

"What?" Mary responded in complete incredulity. "You boys...!"

"Oh Joe!" Georgina chided, "Now what do we do?"

Joseph scrunched his hair into his fists, "I didn't lose it, I -"

"Misplaced it, I know!" Edward finished with irritation.

"Well, where did you last have it?" Mary asked with desperation. When Joseph dithered, she just snapped at him, "Think!"

Joseph closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing calm while he searched his memory, tracing the moment when Edward gave him the contract... he gave it to Georgina, she gave it back to him... his Mama walked in...

Joseph's eyes snapped open, glazed with horror.

"Oh no." He breathed, "The contract's in the drawing room sofa!" He bolted out of the dining room, leaving his mother, sister and brother to scurry after him.

The four of them skidded into the drawing room, Matthew looked up in amusement as he poured his mother a glass of sherry. "Oh there you all are, I was about to send out a search party."

Still chuckling at his own comment, he handed the drink to his mother and sauntered around the table, completely unaware of his wife, daughter and sons, watching him with diligent eyes. He collapsed onto the sofa but frowned as he felt something crackle underneath him.

Joseph's closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath.

"What on earth...?" Matthew rootled under the side of the cushion and extracted the stack of papers, unfolding them in curiosity. "Military Intelligence, Section Five." He read aloud.

"Papa listen," Edward said in a hasty panic as his father started reading the contract, "The main point you need to remember here is, we're helping out family!"

Matthew's confused face morphed into indignation and then fury as he flipped through the pages. Finally, he clenched the contract in his fist, saying in a calm voice seeping with anger, "Explain now."

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	43. The Agent and The Admiral

**Author's Note:**Hey, thanks for all the amazing reviews, it really helped a lot with this chapter! Sooo sorry for the delay in updating but it took ages to write. Also, I hate to do this to you, (and I do hate it) but I have a uni deadline on the 13th so I'm using all my willpower to stay away from writing this until I finish my assignment, cuz I've been putting it off and putting it off but I can't do it any longer lol. So, to keep you going, I've written another long chapter which basically thunders through most of January lol!

So this chapter -starts with a flashback and then picks up right from where we left off. And I wanted to echo the feeling of the first war sort of, just in the way Mary and Matthew handle it this time round and we get to see them properly as Earl and Countess And I wanted to create a paralell from that scene in 2x03 where Robert walks around the library and Cora's staring unhappily around the foyer and then they march towards the entrance to greet the soliders. So hopefully I've got that right. And of course we're still chugging on with the HMS Worthington mystery and there'll be more of Amelia and Clarissa in the next chapter I promise.

But until after the 13th... enjoy this one and please, tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 43 – The Agent and The Admiral<strong>

_**June 24**__**th**__** 1929**_

_Matthew Crawley heard the commotion before he had even opened the nursery door. The loud bangs as toys were hurled across the room coupled with the girls screams as they fought with their brothers. Matthew closed his eyes for a brief moment, gathering his strength before pushing open the door and making his presence known._

_"Papa!" Georgina hurtled towards him, throwing her arms around his waist, "We've put on a puppet show for you and Mama!" She exclaimed, her pale cheeks flushed with excitement. "Can you watch it?"_

_"Maybe after tea." Matthew chuckled, giving his daughter a swift kiss on her rosy cheek. His eyes travelled to his five year old son who was surreptitiously trying to push little Rebecca off the rocking horse with his elbow. "I actually want to have a quick word with Edward."_

_At the mention of his name, Edward scurried away from the rocking horse, climbing onto the window seat and pretending to read a book._

_"Why don't the three of you go downstairs, you have my permission." Matthew said softly._

_"Can we go and play outside Papa?" Joseph asked hopefully._

_Matthew pretended to contemplate his son's request. "Oh all right! But don't get your clothes dirty or your mother will have a fit!" He added as they tore out of the nursery, giggling impishly._

_Matthew closed the door and carefully picked his way through the debris of toys which had been strewn across the floor. Edward slipped off the window seat and suddenly became very interested in his spinning top._

_"Edward," Matthew started off gently, "I wanted to -"_

_"I didn't do it." The little boy interrupted instantly, staring at his father with wide, dark eyes._

_Matthew eyed him curiously, "What didn't you do?"_

_Edward shuffled his feet, mumbling, "I didn't fill Mr Carson's shoes with flour."_

_Matthew released an exhausted breath. Really, this child was giving them all a run for their money! "Eddie, can you look at me," He tried patiently, turning his son's cheek to face him, "Look, do you know the story of Pinocchio?" His son nodded. "Well, remember when he lies, his nose grows bigger and bigger?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Well, when little boys tell lies," Matthew said, choosing his words carefully, "Sometimes – their noses might also -"_

_"Pinocchio is not real." Edward interjected smartly, pushing the spinning top so it whirled across the table._

_Matthew sputtered, completely thrown. "Well – no he isn't real – because he's a puppet isn't he? But when he lies -"_

_"No Papa, he's in a story and the story isn't real." Edward said pointedly as if it was the most obvious fact in the world, "You said that."_

_"Edward -"_

_"You did!" Edward pointed out indignantly yet still very much focused on the spinning toy which was also starting to distract his father. "You did say that!"_

_"Yes the story isn't real. But Eddie, the point of the story of Picnocchio – and the point I'm trying to make – can you give Papa the toy, don't play with it when I'm talking." Matthew chided, trying to prise the spinning top out of his son's pudgy hands. "Eddie – the point I'm trying to make, is that you must never tell lies because no one will like you if you do."_

_"But you lied to Mama!" Edward stated, sticking his chin out in defiance, "You said you liked the new garden statue - and then I heard you telling Grandpapa it looked - like eyesore."_

_"And that's another thing!" Matthew added with forced severity despite his growing anxiousness, "This eavesdropping has got to stop as well Edward! It's wrong!"_

_"What is eyesore?" Edward asked curiously, clearly not paying attention to his father's scolding, "Is it like – sores on your arm but in your eyes?"_

_Matthew groaned and hung his head in defeat. _

_Let Mary handle this one._

_"Just go and play outside." He said in a dull voice._

* * *

><p>Matthew Crawley stood in the centre of the drawing room, his arms folded over his chest, not a flicker of emotion shadowing his face as his sons launched into an explanation, emphasizing the importance of Tommy's mission, all the while apologizing profusely for keeping it a secret from him, (well except Edward). After they had finished, he released a low breath and nodded slowly, the only words he managed to say were, "I see."<p>

Joseph sighed. He would've much preferred it if his father had shouted at them rather than the usual, 'quietly disappointed in you' look, which he was giving them right now.

Many seconds, minutes, they didn't know, ticked by in uncomfortable silence while Matthew just stared at his boys, daring them to speak. Edward stared back defiantly, determined not to crack however, it was of course Joseph who could no longer stand the discomposure.

"Say something Papa!" He implored, "Please."

Isobel sprung to their defence, "I think they both showed good initiative -"

"Please!" Matthew ordered sharply, throwing up his hand to silence her, "Let me handle this Mother."

"Matthew, what they did was wrong," Mary interjected carefully with a cautious look at her boys, "And I'm certainly not condoning it. But right now we need to sort out the situation we've become muddled with."

Matthew flicked his icy blue eyes towards her, arching his brow. "Do we? Are you sure you want me in on this? Or perhaps I should just go and let you all decide for yourselves?" Nearly everyone in the room dropped their gaze to the floor except Edward who rolled his eyes. "That's what you're going to do anyway isn't it?"

"Papa, we're not!" Georgina said quickly.

"You might not but my sons certainly do," Matthew said in thinly veiled anger.

"Oh, Papa please don't do this now!" Edward begged with irritation sewn into his voice, "We don't have a lot of time!"

"No? And whose fault is that Edward?" Matthew retorted in a simmering tone.

"Ours." Edward replied with indifference, "And we're sorry. But – that contract is really important and if you could just sign -"

"You're really not helping!" Joseph snapped.

"I'm trying to get things done!" Edward fired back, "Which is a damn sight more than what you've been doing for the past twenty minutes!"

"All right boys stop!" Matthew's demanding voice sliced through their argument. He ran a hand over his chin as he surveyed his boys with intense exasperation. "While I value the amount of – shall we say endeavour – in making Downton useful again, I am still astounded that you didn't think to ask my permission first? Did you not think that I would've wanted to help Tommy in any way I can?"

"You can't deny that you have been very distracted as of late Papa." Joseph said in a quiet voice as he watched his father carefully. Mary sidled a glimpse at her husband, knowing full well what Joseph had meant about Matthew's - distraction. It was the only thing fuelling him these days and the main reason why he wanted Naval Intelligence right under their nose at Downton. It wasn't so much a distraction than it was an obsession.

Matthew drew up straighter, his lips turning in as he released a low breath. "I haven't been that distracted. I've - merely been chasing up Edward's story that's all."

"Why?" Edward shot out, "Don't you believe me?"

"I never said that." Matthew replied, his voice and features completely calm as his blue eyes bored into his son's. Edward's eyes flickered in trepidation for split second but it was gone within the instant.

"Now get to bed, both of you." Matthew said in a dismissive manner, "I'll tell you my decision in the morning."

"Of course, goodnight Papa." Joseph said obediently before turning to leave, nudging his brother to follow.

Edward, however remained exactly where he was as he cast a glance at the mantelpiece clock. "Bed? It's nine-thirty," He pointed out with emphasis.

Matthew's eyes glimmered, "You might be too old for the naughty step but you're most certainly not too old to be sent to bed in disgrace."

"We're in disgrace?" Edward countered in disbelief, Joseph's eyes fluttered shut in annoyance. "What for?"

"For lying!" Matthew answered, his tone growing more irked by the word, "And for not speaking up when I gave you the chance." Here these words were directed straight at his third child, "I knew something wasn't right in this house. I kept on asking you didn't I?"

"You can't harass a response out of people." Edward muttered, his face melting into a sulk, the kind they hadn't seen since he was a child.

Maybe he was just tired or maybe he just wanted to break through those barriers his son had thrown up, but the next words out of the Earl's mouth were, "Edward no one can harass a response out of you because you never let them near enough to try."

A stunned silence flooded the room. No one moved or even dared to breathe until –

"Matthew." Mary gasped, staring at him in utter shock.

"Do you know it's getting rather late?" Isobel announced in a forced cheery voice which sliced unpleasantly through the tense atmosphere, "I'm awfully tired, boys, why don't you – both - walk your dear old grandmother to bed?"

She marched straight towards the door, tugging on her grandsons arms as she passed him. Casting a dark look at his father, Edward followed his grandmother and brother out of the room. Once they had gone, Georgina rounded on her father.

"Was there any need for that Papa?" She asked, her voice bordering on anger.

Matthew, who had now moved to stand by the window, turned to look at her with his face etched in regret. "I'm sorry." He breathed, "I don't know why I said that - it's just – it's Edward! He winds me up and sometimes I think he does it deliberately!"

"You wind each other up." Mary said dryly. "And I'm not sure the blame is entirely on his side."

Matthew shot her a fractious look.

* * *

><p>"Cheer up Edward, you don't want to take what your father says to heart." Isobel said with reassurance as they climbed the grand staircase. "I know Matthew sometimes speaks before he thinks -"<p>

"Sometimes?" Edward scoffed, "The man lives with his foot in his mouth!"

Isobel chuckled, "Still, at the end of the day, he just wants what's best for you. Both of you. He might put his foot in it most of the time but really it's only because he loves you. He thinks the world of all of you."

"We know that." Joseph replied with a smile as they reached the top. Edward glanced at him but didn't respond. "So how long do you think we'll be in the doghouse for?"

"I'd give till the morning." Isobel answered followed by another chuckle. She kissed her grandsons goodnight and departed for bed.

Joseph watched her disappear around the corner before turning to his brother in gentle concern. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Edward released a sigh of frustration, "You know, I really wish people would stop asking me that!" He stormed off down the bachelor's corridor, bolting into his room and slamming the door.

* * *

><p>Mary paced around the nursery with Emily cradled against her chest, gently rocking her to sleep while Matthew sat brooding in the corner. "What are you going to do about tomorrow?" She whispered.<p>

Matthew rubbed his forehead wearily before replying, "I suppose I'll just have to improvise won't I? Isn't that what people like us always do in a crisis?"

"Which Intelligence group are you going to choose?" Mary asked curiously, "From what I've heard, Tommy's group in M15 desperately need a place to work from and they're specifically searching for a place in a countryside because it's shunned from the city and prying eyes."

"I know." Matthew said in a hollow voice, "And I wholly respect what they're doing. If things had been – different, I'd have given Downton over to them in a heartbeat."

"Yes I know you would've. But Naval Intelligence is our only way of finding out what happened to HMS Worthington and those poor Naval Officers." Mary finished with nod. "I knew that was the reason. To be honest I knew it before you even made the announcement."

Matthew chuckled softly, "I'm that predictable hmm?"

Mary cast a warm smile down at Emily who was wide awake, staring up at her mother while gnawing on her tiny fist. "Only when it comes to your children." She replied quietly, "I know you want to find out more about what happened to Edward as well. You think there's more to his story than he's letting on and to be honest so do I. That's why you wanted Naval Intelligence here at Downton. So they can be right under our noses, thus providing us with a direct link to any information we need. Especially if Edward is serious about joining the Royal Navy." She watched him stare wistfully at the floor before adding affectionately, "I would've done exactly the same thing."

Matthew's head snapped up, he stared at her with parted lips as he watched her tend to their daughter, feeling a strong rush of love flood to his chest. How wonderful. He thought, settling back into the rocking chair. To be understood so entirely, so completely and not have to explain.

* * *

><p><em><strong>January 11<strong>__**th**__** 1941**_

The next morning naturally proved to be as complex as they had all predicted. Not only did both Intelligence parties arrive significantly early but they also arrived within ten minutes of each other. First to arrive was Tommy with Agent Blackwell. Closely following behind them was the Naval Intelligence car, which carried the important Rear-Admiral Sheridan. They had taken brief moments to gape up at the house in amazement before acknowledging each other's presence in polite confusion.

Now, Matthew stood in the Drawing Room along with his family, (except Isobel who had been ordered up to the hospital by her son) trying to explain to both Intelligence units, the situation which had arisen. Not once during his explanation, did Joseph and Edward remove their fixed gaze from the floor.

"And unfortunately you both have been caught in the crossfire." Matthew finished with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry Lord Grantham," Agent Blackwell began with hesitation, "But I thought that you knew about our situation. My boss, Agent Fenwick had sent you a rental contract which apparently you'd agreed to sign?"

Matthew cast a glance at his boys before replying casually, "Indeed I do want you here. And I will sign the contract." He patted the stack of papers resting on the piano. Joseph exchanged a brief yet surprised glimpse with his brother. "But I also do feel that – since this is such a large house and there are so many uses for it, I also thought it would be- fitting to house not one but two Intelligence units!"

"I see." Agent Blackwell said, nodding in understanding, "Well, you'll certainly be helping the war effort in the process."

Tommy sidled a confused look at Joseph who just nodded surreptitiously. Rear-Admiral Sheridan on the other hand released a loud huff of indignation. "I'm sorry but no can do." He started in a lofty voice, forcing everyone present to snap their heads towards him in surprise. "Lord Grantham when we spoke, I was under the distinct impression that you wanted to house the Naval Intelligence Division – and only – the Naval Intelligence Division." He shot a piercing look at Agent Blackwell who just quirked his brow in response. "Now I find out that it's not to be the case. That we must share our base with... well...them." He waved a hand towards Blackwell.

"Is it really that hard to do?" Mary asked, her polite tone veiling her sharpness. "Agent Blackwell seems perfectly happy to share the house with you."

"Indeed I am!" Agent Blackwell said quickly. "I don't care if we're sharing a miniature cottage so long as our work can get done!"

"There!" Mary responded, beaming at Rear-Admiral Sheridan who scowled. "Surely, we can come to some arrangement that can benefit us all -"

"No I don't think so." Sheridan interrupted coolly, "We need our space, there's a lot of work that needs to be done!"

"And you need the whole house?" Mary countered, trying not to glare at him.

"What we need, Lady Grantham, is privacy, privacy to carry out the work which we have been striving to achieve for eight months and sharing the house will only cause the most terrible disturbance! For everyone!" Sheridan snapped.

"Do you think your work is more important than M15?" Mary asked evenly, liking the old man less and less. "Or do you think that only your division deserves all the victory in this war?"

"There won't be any victory, undoubtedly not for us if we don't get our work done soon." Tommy finally said, earning proud smirks from his Aunt and cousins. He certainly had no problem glaring the old Rear-Admiral down, "All Intelligence divisions need privacy. We respect that and so do my Aunt and Uncle. But what good is all this fighting going to come down to if we end up losing anyway?"

Everyone was clearly stricken with fear at the truth behind Tommy's words.

"Tommy's right." Joseph said firmly, "Downton Abbey is a large house with many rooms. Can't you put your differences aside and at least try to share?"

"I'm perfectly happy to do that." Agent Blackwell answered with a sigh, "We'll keep ourselves to ourselves and won't step on anyone's toes. Our operation is highly covert and we need at least two rooms to work from. That's all."

"It sounds very plausible and of course your work is just as important as ours." Sheridan replied in a kinder tone, his face softening slightly. "But our kind of work entails more than two rooms. You see, there are so many different divisions in Naval Intelligence ranging from War, to Trade to Coastal Guarding. Each department has a vital role in this war. All across the world, our ships are being knocked out one by one by the enemy."

Matthew exchanged a nervous look with Mary and sidled a glimpse at Edward who was watching him, but once their eyes locked, both father and son broke away.

"Why do you think we suffered so much in Norway last year?" Sheridan continued defiantly, "Who do you think it was that twisted the arm of the Royal Navy to send some of their best ships to rescue our men from Dunkirk?"

Joseph strongly resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Best ships? A fishing boat helped him to safety all right and where was the recognition in that?

"Then of course there's all this recent business with the HMS Worthington in Egypt." Sheridan added quietly. Everyone felt Edward tense but no one dared look at him lest they be rewarded with a steely glare. "I can't explain their situation without going into immense detail but let's just say that if it wasn't for us..." He cleared his throat, aware of the effect he was having on every single person in the room.

"If it wasn't for you then what?" Matthew asked in a mere whisper, his eyes glued to the Rear-Admiral.

"Never mind," Sheridan replied swiftly, "All I'm saying is that we have a lot of plates to juggle."

"Well, if Lord Grantham wanted both of us to share the house then I'm sure he'd have some ideas as to how it can be managed." Blackwell said with an expectant look at Matthew.

Matthew's eyes flickered from the Agent to the Admiral, his heart thudding in panic. Of course he didn't have any ideas, he didn't have a clue how this can all be managed! He was just making everything up as he went along so his sons didn't look like complete idiots in front of the Secret Intelligence Service!

Thank God for his wife.

"We do have ideas as to how it can be managed." Mary said smoothly, shooting them her charming smile. "As Downton Abbey is both mine and Lord Grantham's house we decided it would be best if we discuss the administration – together." She gave him a pointed stare, "Isn't that right?"

"Yes!" Matthew replied, cottoning on quickly, "Yes, we both discussed it together in order to ensure that Downton runs like a tight ship. Pardon the pun." He added uncomfortably as Edward sniggered.

"Right, so if we use the house then where are we to go?" Sheridan prompted with impatience.

"Well, we have a map of the house here," Mary said airily as she unfurled a large scroll across the piano. "I'm sure we can divide the rooms up equally so none of us will be left out."

"But first why don't we all take a tour of the house and you can see for yourselves which rooms will be better suited for you." Matthew suggested with a smile, feeling his confidence trickle back.

"Of course," Joseph agreed rapidly, beckoning them to follow, "We'll show you the downstairs rooms and then the gardens. Even during the Winter, they're still quite magnificent." As they headed out of the room he turned to Agent Blackwell, glancing at Tommy with a small grin, "And it'll give you a chance to see where Agent Branson and the rest of us used to play together as children."

Agent Blackwell chuckled, "I'm sure the gardens will be splendid."

After hours of touring the grounds of Downton Abbey, followed by another hour of careful consideration (and much negotiating over the bigger rooms) it was eventually decided that they would each be spread across adjoining rooms, plus the front Salon as a dining area.

"So Naval Intelligence will be using the Drawing Room, the Smoking Room and the Pink Room," Mary explained to her children as they walked back inside the house, "Whilst M15 settles in the library."

"The whole library?" Rebecca asked civilly yet there was an underlying worry to her tone.

Tommy nodded, "I hope you don't mind, I know how much you love your books Becky. But it's so big and there's only a select few of us running the operation."

Rebecca shook her head quickly, "Of course I don't mind Tommy! I've read every book there is in there anyway!"

As Matthew used his attentive lawyer's mind to comb through the contracts with great care, Edward turned to his mother, whispering, "I don't mean to throw a spanner in the works but where exactly are we supposed to live?"

"We'll convert the Music Room into our new Drawing Room of course. And we still have Papa's study and the dining room." Mary replied, trying to keep her tone on an even keel yet everyone could hear the discomfort laced in her voice.

Edward quirked his brow in a sceptical manner. "Papa's study? All of us in there for the entire duration of the war? Aren't you worried we might all kill each other as supposed to the Nazis?"

"There's always the nursery." Mary added sternly forcing Edward to swallow his next quip.

"Where will they sleep?" Georgina asked curiously.

"We have a system running throughout the day and night." Sheridan answered. Mary looked up in surprise. "Once the day staff clock off, the night staff clock in and they'll commute back to their homes."

"Really?" Mary responded with a strained smile, "So you'll have people – waltzing in and out of my - the house all the time?"

"Every second of every minute of every hour of every day." Sheridan said in an affirmative manner. "Don't worry Lady Grantham, we'll post high security on your house. It's the only way we can get the jobs done."

Mary turned very slowly towards Agent Blackwell, saying with forced calm, "I gather you'll be staying."

"We can stay in the servant's hall Lady Grantham, don't worry about us." Blackwell said hastily.

"Nonsense!" Mary retorted firmly, "You'll all have rooms in the North Wing."

"That's very kind, thank you." Blackwell said with sincerity.

"Yes Aunt Mary." Tommy added with a warm smile which she returned, "Thank you."

"All right I've read all the paperwork and everything seems legitimate." Matthew said in a small voice as he shuffled the large pack. "I suppose that just leaves me to sign on the dotted line."

Joseph handed him the pen. "Well done Papa." He said softly.

Matthew just gave him a tight smile in response and scrawled his signature onto all of the papers, from the rental agreements for Downton right to the National Secrets Act – which all members of the family had to sign as well. Once the last slip of paper had been signed, Matthew felt a deep weight of accomplishment settle on his shoulders. Even though they were just pieces of paper, they really confirmed Downton's role in this war.

"Once these papers have been processed, you all will have been granted clearance." Agent Blackwell explained as he gathered up the contracts, "Which means from here on out, everything that goes on in this house..."

"Stays in this house." Matthew finished, casting warning looks on all his children, lingering on Edward for a split second longer. "Understood?"

There was a mumble of 'Yes Papa,' which somehow seemed to make everything even more final.

Agent Blackwell regarded Matthew with some hesitation, "Lord Grantham, Agent Branson also mentioned that you have a seven year old child. Usually I wouldn't object but as we are trying to run a very -"

"We'll handle it." Matthew interrupted curtly.

"See that you do." Rear-Admiral Sheridan said absently as he rifled through the papers Matthew had just signed. "Because the last we need is our cover being blown by a seven year old child."

"Well like my husband said – we'll handle it." Mary responded, her tone dripping with ice.

Both Agent Blackwell and Tommy bade them goodbye, mentioning that once their clearance came through, they'd be ready to start work.

Rear-Admiral Sheridan collected his belongings together, shook hands with Matthew and walked with him to the front of the house. Just as his driver was bringing the car round, he quickly turned to the Earl and Countess with a look which told them unpleasantly, that he had forgotten to mention something vital.

"By the way, I forgot to mention this to you but before we start, the Royal Naval Engineers will be arriving soon to check the electricity, the generators, the telephone systems and the wiring – all the electrical structures in Downton Abbey."

Mary's eyes flashed dangerously, "I assure you there is nothing wrong with the electrical structure in our house. My father had the generator installed in 1911 and we haven't had a single problem."

"Touch wood." Edward and Joseph muttered in unison as they knocked on the door.

"I'm sure your house is simply perfect in every way Lady Grantham," Sheridan said in a bored yet amused voice, "But you see that was thirty years ago and we have many, many new, important pieces of equipment which, if you haven't already noticed, relies on the electricity provided by your house in order for it to function properly. So please, let's follow the procedure shall we? This war is setting everyone on edge, let's not spoil it by an accident caused by a faulty light switch."

Mary continued to pierce her gaze at him while he slid into his car. "A faulty light switch? Who does he think he is?" She huffed while they watched him pull away. "A faulty light switch! There's absolutely nothing wrong with the wiring in this house, Papa saw to that!"

Matthew swallowed over the lump of anxiety in his throat as he reached for her hand. "Take it with a pinch of salt darling. It's all just procedure."

"Yes but how much procedure will we have to put up with?" Edward asked emphatically, voicing the question which was on everyone's mind.

Matthew chewed on his lip as he stared down at his copy of the rental agreement which was clutched in his hand. His eyes travelled down to the perfect scrawl of his signature at the bottom while his stomach started to tighten with anxiety. Just what exactly had he signed up for?

* * *

><p><em><strong>January 21<strong>__**st**__** 1941**_

True to the Rear-Admiral's word, as soon as their clearance had come through, the Naval Engineers invaded the house, checking and re-checking everything from the light fixtures in the main rooms right down to the plug points in the servants hall. All the while they were being closely watched by both Mary and Cutler who had sour expressions etched upon their faces throughout the entire inspection.

And they weren't the only ones.

"Mama I can't sleep!" Joseph stated tetchily as he traipsed downstairs with a look of mild anger gleaming in his tired eyes. He had been hoping to catch up on some proper sleep before returning back to his RAF duties in the evening, only to find that his entire house was being poked and prodded at full volume.

Mary rolled her eyes, "Then read a book or drink some warm milk." She replied casually. "It's no use complaining to me," She added as he opened his mouth to retort, "You wanted them here Joe – they're here."

"I wanted M15 here." Joseph corrected through gritted teeth, "They're not the ones causing all the – disturbance." His eyes flickered upward as the lights flashed on and off.

Joseph released a groan and trudged back upstairs just as his grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Grantham came scurrying into the foyer like an impatient squirrel, her eyes widening in disapproval as she watched complete strangers hammering into the walls of her former home.

"Mama." Mary sighed in relief, drifting towards her.

Cora shook her head in disbelief, casting a dark look at a young man, barely older than twenty, fiddling around with the telephone cables."Mary, I can't believe you're agreeing to this - madness! As much as I respect Matthew for wanting to do the right thing for Downton, surely there must be some other way to put the house to use than – this!" She didn't see the point in whispering over the loud hum of drills which reverberated around them, richoetting off the large walls which only echoed the noise tenfold.

"It's as much for Edward as it is for Tommy." Mary tried to mutter however her words were swiftly drowned out by the sound of a particularly large drill, forcing her eyes to close in controlled patience. "Look, Mama I know you don't understand this yet, but the Secret Intelligence Service is really proving to be useful in this war and I don't intend on letting a good chance slip through our fingers."

"You don't think all of this might cause some disturbance for Emily?" Cora asked sharply.

"Since Matthew was already going to do it whether it causes any disturbance or not, it doesn't matter what I think." Mary replied coolly. "So she'll just have to get used to it like the rest of us."

At that moment young Benjamin came galloping down the stairs, his toy Spitfire clutched in his hand while his brow furrowed in annoyance. "Mama, I can't play my games! These people keep making so much noise and whenever I ask them to stop, they just laugh at me and mess up my hair!" He smoothed his page-boy haircut down with his palm in such an irritated fashion, his mother and grandmother had to bite their cheeks in order to hold in their laughter.

"Darling, please be patient they'll be gone soon." Mary said with a loving grin as she tousled his hair.

Cora watched her young grandson scamper back upstairs before turning to her daughter in a huff, "And what exactly are you planning on telling him once these people move in for good?"

Mary shot her mother a warning look, "One step at time Mama, one step at a time."

Matthew strode out of the Drawing Room with one of the main contractors in tow. He shook his hand limply before turning to his wife and mother-in-law with an incensed look.

Mary instantly stiffened, "What's happened now?"

"I've given them the go ahead to install some more telephone lines." Matthew replied sheepishly.

"What on earth for?" Mary asked with indignation, "Isn't what we have enough?"

"Not if we want to keep our own private number no." Matthew said thinly, "Apparently they need to make all sorts of calls and keep tabs on ships, etcetera." Mary's eyes flicked up to meet his and they softened in understanding. "They'll be bringing in a whole host of equipment and they're pushing me to install air conditioning."

The sharp look had spread back onto the Countesses face. "Air conditioning?" She echoed sceptically, "It's Winter!"

"It's for the Summer." Matthew said calmly, "And – now they mention it, I do agree." At Mary and Cora's shocked looks he continued swiftly, "Only because it does get rather stuffy in here during the Summer and now with all these people crowded in the house, it might be a good idea to finally install air conditioning."

"Well, why do you think we have windows?" Mary retorted in a clipped voice, "So we can open them during Summer and close them during Winter as we have been doing so for centuries!"

Cora chuckled, sharing an amused grin with her son-in-law, "My darling if you still haven't realized that times have changed, then I don't think you ever will!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>January 26th<strong>__** 1941**_

The big day finally arrived. Today their lives would be turned their lives upside down once again. No one could stomach much at breakfast, though why they were feeling so anxious, they couldn't tell. After breakfast Matthew felt a restless desire to stroll around his house before they arrived, his house which had now become transformed into a base for the Secret Intelligence Service. The mere idea of having them under his roof sent shivers down his spine but whether they were good or bad, he couldn't tell yet.

Matthew sauntered into the Drawing Room which would soon be converted into a Map Room. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, he was greeted instantly with a cold draft forcing an uncomfortable ache to settle in his chest as he gazed around the room. What was once their Drawing Room now had been completely stripped of all its furniture, leaving it bare and empty. Now it was just...a room. Of course that was all it ever was, but to see it so - unclothed like this, brought a fresh wave of certainty to strike the Earl hard. Yes, it was definitely happening. Despite everything that happened over the past year and half, Downton Abbey was welcoming the war right back into its arms. What if he couldn't manage it properly? What if it all fell apart?

His thoughts drifted towards Robert, wondering if this was how it must've felt for him during the last war, having to share his home with strangers and the pressures that wartime brandished them with. Suddenly, Matthew felt his eyes sting with unshed tears at the remembrance of his late father-in-law. In the empty room, he could practically feel Robert's spirit lingering beside him, guiding him through this web of chaos. He sucked in a sharp breath, swallowing over the aching lump of sorrow wedged in his throat. No, he shouldn't be feeling like this, not today. Matthew knew that if Robert was here, he would tell him that he shouldn't worry and at the end of the day – Downton Abbey is his house, his and Mary's and they won't be bullied into anything! A watery chuckle escaped Matthew's lips and silently, he backed out of the room.

Lady Mary, Countess of Grantham, stood at the centre of the grand foyer just staring around her in a daze, as if she were lost in time. Almost twenty-four years ago, her mother stood exactly where she was standing, fretfully waiting to invite a piece of the war into her home. It felt so right to help the war effort yet so very wrong to bring it into their home.

"Mary."

The gentle voice drifted towards her from behind, snapping her out of her nostalgic reverie. She turned towards him with a sad smile, "Oh Matthew. We're doing the right thing aren't we?"

Matthew smiled in reassurance, as only he knew how. He caressed her cheek lovingly, saying calmly, "Of course we are, this is definitely the right thing to do. And you don't have to worry. I'll be right beside you the entire time."

A grateful grin leaked across her face as she laced her fingers through his, "We'll do this together."

The soft sounds of their four eldest children marching silently downstairs, prompted them to break apart reluctantly.

Mary plastered on a smile as they crowded around her and Matthew. "Ready?" She asked, unsure if it was a rhetorical question or not.

"Are you?" Edward challenged as he fiddled with his cuffs. The screeching sound of cars pulling up outside the house sent a ripple of anticipation through the small group.

Matthew released a weary chortle, casting a nervous glance towards the door. "I suppose I'll have to be."

Cutler hurried towards them, his face tense. "Milord, they've arrived."

Matthew's heartbeat accelerated as he sucked in yet another deep breath, forcing his lips to tug into a smile as Joseph clapped him on the shoulder, telling him everything was going to be all right. He checked that his family were in order, before casting one final look around the foyer and then...one last look and smile at Mary. She smiled back, letting him know that she was ready. Taking that as his cue, he gave the nod to Cutler who opened the double doors, allowing a slice of white Winter sunlight to flood the foyer. In unison, the Earl and Countess of Grantham strode towards the entrance with their children trailing behind them in pairs, their faces each masking their own apprehension with the welcoming smiles they had spent half their lifetime practicing.

A stream of men and women, young and old, marched over the threshold of Downton Abbey and poured into the foyer, nodding briefly to the Grantham family in respect as they scuttled off to their assigned stations. Those select few agents who belonged to M15 split off in their own direction and headed straight to the library, led by Agent Blackwell of course, carrying all their boards, telephones and other equipment with them. However, the Naval Intelligence Officers scattered off into their own domains in a rather noisy fashion as they had much more equipment to install. Nearly all of them swarmed into the house, pushing tables balanced with all kinds of radio transmitters and fancy technology while some trooped in carrying large scrolls over their shoulders, closely followed by a horde of officers hauling enormous drawing boards. All the while Rear-Admiral Sheridan barked orders to them, giving directions to the rooms and which equipments should go where.

Matthew and Mary stood right in the middle of all the hustle and bustle, gaping at the flurry of activity which had pervaded their house. Matthew's eyes widened as a particularly large enigma machine rolled past him, bringing back sharp memories of Bletchley Park. Mary almost screeched out loud as one officer casually ran one of the tables into the Drawing Room door. She turned to Matthew with a severe warning look, explaining that she would not tolerate any personal damage!

"Well, it looks like Downton has a new chapter at last." Georgina said in amusement as she watched the officers take a brief moment to admire the house before being snapped at by Rear-Admiral Sheridan to 'get that Typex machine out of harm's way!'

"Yes it looks that way," Matthew muttered, watching a throng of people roll several radar boards past them. And for the first time in one and a half years... Matthew truly felt that they weren't alone anymore. They had Intelligence on their side which could provide much more comfort that it could harm. Couldn't it?

* * *

><p><strong><em>January 30<em>****_th_****_ 1941_**

**_2:00pm_**

With polite irritation, Matthew Crawley pushed his way through a small flock of men who had clustered outside the house on a cigarette break. For a man who didn't mind sharing his privacy, he found that he now yearned to get at least a slice of it back. Hitching up his coat, he strolled towards his son who was sitting on the bench under the old oak tree. Today, Matthew hadn't had the chance to even glance through the newspaper, so when Edward asked if he could browse through it after luncheon, he handed it over without hesitation. Now he could've kicked himself for being so thoughtless. Although he didn't know what it contained yet, Edward suddenly grew withdrawn, politely excusing himself from the sitting room and dashing outside for a breath of fresh air.

"Edward?" Matthew tentatively dropped himself onto the space next to his son, watching him with intense concern. Edward had been staring at the same page, gripping the paper into his fists. Matthew peered over his shoulder, his stomach stirring with trepidation as he gazed at the grainy image of a young soldier beaming back at him.

This could only mean one thing.

"Did you know him well?" Matthew asked softly.

"Ray Pratt was his name. He was only twenty-three but he called me the baby of the regiment and kept a close eye on me, even though I was the one who ended up fishing out a bullet hole from his leg." Edward answered in a bland voice laced with sadness, "And he was one of the few who managed to escape with me onto HMS Worthington, even though he had been wounded."

"He was?" Matthew reacted stiffly as his eyes darted back to Pratt's picture, "I thought he had been taken prisoner?"

"Nope." Edward folded up the newspaper with a sigh, all the while being carefully watched by his father. "I thought I did my job, healing up a wounded soldier. Then I open up the paper only to find that he had killed himself in the early hours of the morning."

Matthew blanched in shock. Whatever he was expecting to hear, it certainly wasn't that. "My God. He killed himself?" He repeated in a hush.

Edward gave him a slow nod, using his two fingers as a pistol and drew it to his head, miming pulling the trigger. "Shot himself in the head. Poor chap. To survive all that only to end it by his own hand months later."

"Why did he do it?" Matthew asked, his heart thudding frantically as his shock melted into suspicion.

Edward sidled a glimpse at his father before shrugging nonchalantly, replying, "How should I know?"

Matthew swallowed, trying to organize the emotions and questions that were flooding his mind right now. "You were with him for quite some time. Was he – acting depressed in any way?"

"No he was fine, well as fine as one can be." Edward said with a distant glare, "Maybe the pressures of war got to him. It has been known."

Matthew continued to closely observe his son, saying with as much softness as he could though his heart was racing fear, "Edward I'm going to continue looking into this case."

Edward's head snapped towards him so fast he heard a crick in his neck, "No!" He said harshly though there was an underlying hint of panic streaked in his tone, "Papa – please don't! I've told you time and time again, just leave it!"

"Why should I?" Matthew challenged, his voice growing with frustration, "Did you know that those Naval Officers on HMS Worthington who helped rescue you are currently untraceable?"

Edward's eyes clouded. "What do you mean untraceable?" He asked in a trembling voice.

"I mean, they've suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth!" Matthew glanced back at the house to check their argument hadn't carried over there before dropping his tone to one of slight desperation. "Ed, you don't think – it's odd that these naval officers who were on the same ship as you, suddenly end up missing and now," Matthew jabbed at Ray Pratt's picture, "One of the men from your group who also – lo and behold, was on that same ship, ends up with a bullet to the brain?"

Throughout his father's speech, Edward just shook his head as he writhed uncomfortably in his seat, his face flushing a deep scarlet as he hissed, "They're not connected at all! Pratt was probably suffering from trauma – you were a soldier Papa, you know what it can be like! And those naval officers are keeping a low profile!"

Matthew raised his brow sceptically, "For three months?"

Edward threw his hands wide with emphasis, "I don't know what else to tell you! You're the one who invited Naval Intelligence into our home, ask them!"

"Believe me I will." Matthew said, sounding surprisingly calm to his son even though his face was etched with anger. "And yes I do know many soldiers who took their own lives – in the trenches," His eyes grew small, "Not afterward."

Edward continued to glare into the distance, breathing hard while he muttered, "That's because they had no reason to."

It took a little more than a second for Matthew to realize the words which had tumbled from his son's mouth.

"What do you mean by that Edward?" He asked sharply.

Edward snapped back into focus, twisting the newspaper into a tight knot in his hands as he struggled to find the right words to say, eventually choosing, "Just that – this war is a completely different game that's all."

"War isn't a game." Matthew said in a stern tone as he watched his son's restless behaviour in distress, "The last one wasn't game and this one certainly isn't."

Edward scoffed, flinging aside his father's remark with indifference, "Believe what you like!" He scrambled up from the bench, the newspaper still clutched in his fist as he proceeded to scurry away from his father, to his own recluse - the stables. There he could take as much time as he needed to pull himself together. Then perhaps he could face his father with more composure next time he was ambushed like that. However it was the next words which tumbled out of his father's lips that forced the young Crawley to stop in his tracks.

"I know when you're lying Edward." Matthew said in that same, chilling, calm voice which always set Edward on edge. Especially when he had a right to be. "I always know."

Edward pretended not to be affected by his father's words as he bolted towards the stables, desperately trying to batten the hatches from the storm of emotions brewing inside him.

* * *

><p>"Yes, I can see it. Yes, it's right in front of me!" Colonel Redford snapped into the receiver, trying to keep one hand clasped around the phone while scrunching up the newspaper in the other and hurling it into the bin. "What do you want me to say? Well done? You'll be waiting a long time for that one!" He struggled to slam the receiver back onto the holdall, his hand trembling out of co-ordination. He absently ran his hand over his sweat-glazed face as he glared in shock at the telephone. Then from the folds of his military jacket, he extracted a small notebook, flipping to the back page with shaking hands and drawing a clean line through the first name - <em>Ray Pratt<em>.

Colonel Redford tucked the notebook back inside his pocket, a sickening feeling churning in his gut – and heart as he tried to block out the last name scribbled at the very bottom of the page.

_The Right Hon. Edward Samuel Crawley._

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	44. The Evacuee

**Author's Note:** First of all I have to say a massive thank you to all of you for your patience! I've spent days trying to get this chapter just right and I think I've got it.

So this chapter is about the title - yes but we're also setting up for the next chapter which will (I promise) feature Amelia, Clarissa and Dominic. Together. I know I promised them in this one but I had a change of plan. Anyway, there's also a big scene between Isobel/Georgina which is a parallel of Isobel/Sybil in 2x01 which I loved.

So, enjoy and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 44 – The Evacuee<strong>

_**February 6**__**th**__** 1941**_

Lady Rebecca Crawley released an exasperated huff of annoyance, writhing in distress under her sheets as she listened to the shrill cries calling towards her from down the hall. She wanted to, God knows she wanted to move on with her life and she tried. But how could she do that when every single night for the past month, her eyes would automatically snap open, awake and alert every time the baby cried? And for some reason Rebecca could hear these cries very clearly, almost as if Emily were lying on the bed right next to her and howling into her ear. Every night the young girl would lie, tossing and turning in utter anguish, waiting for her mother to tend to the baby. Eventually, the doors would open and hushed voices could be heard followed by a peaceful silence. Once she knew Emily was settled, she could finally ease herself back to sleep. However Rebecca couldn't understand it at all. Her door was shut and Emily's nursery was all the way at the other end of the hall? So why was she just as restless as the baby? She certainly had no reason to be.

Rebecca cast a tormented glance at the door, "Come on Mama," She muttered under breath. Tonight her mother seemed to be taking much longer than usual. Rebecca pressed her palm against her forehead in sheer agony as Emily's screams accelerated into piercing shrieks. Groaning, she clamped the pillow over her head to try and block out the child's agitated sobs yet somehow she could only seem to muffle the sound. Unable to stand it any longer, Rebecca crawled out of bed, shoved on her dressing gown and bolted out of her room, lured by Emily's cries. As if she were in a trance, Rebecca padded down the dark hallway, following the small slice of dim light from the crack in the nursery door. Taking a deep breath she pushed open the door and tiptoed towards the crib where Lady Emily lay sobbing in discomfort, tears streaming down her tiny face.

"Shush little one." Rebecca soothed, gingerly picking up the pink bundle as if she were made of bone china. With surprising ease, she managed to cradle her in her arms and pace around the room. Emily's sobs faded into soft whimpers as she stared up at Rebecca with a void yet curious expression through her veil of tears.

"Rebecca?"

The surprised whisper of her mother forced Rebecca to turn around in gentle alarm. Mary stood at the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest and her exhausted face etched in...worry?

"Darling what are you doing up at this time?" Mary asked with a tired crack in her voice as she swiftly crossed the room in two strides, ready to prise Emily out of Rebecca's arms.

"Emily was crying." Rebecca replied with defiance as she subtly clung tighter to the baby, despite the fact that she was still whimpering. "And you wouldn't wake up."

Mary flinched at her daughter's accusatory tone. "I – I was in the bathroom and I didn't hear her." She lied evenly. Truth be told, she slept right through Emily's cries and it took Matthew, ever the light sleeper, to shake her awake. But she couldn't be seen as incompetent, not now. Rebecca had entrusted them with her child and Mary would do everything in her power to be a mother to them both. So she tugged her lips into a reassuring smile and said softly, "But I'm here now, so why don't you go back to sleep."

It wasn't so much a suggestion than an order as Mary was already lifting Emily out of Rebecca's arms. "There, there my sweet darling." She breathed with a loving smile, bouncing the baby who quickly calmed down the second she heard Mary's familiar voice. "I think she just needs to be changed that's all."

"I could've changed her." Rebecca said in a measured voice tinged with hope.

Mary's head jerked towards her in recognition as she lay Emily down on the changing mat but she merely said, "Don't be silly, it's not your responsibility."

"I suppose not." Rebecca said with forced indifference. Feeling oddly empty now Emily was gone from her arms, she wrung her hands nervously as she sauntered around the nursery, admiring everything from the crib to the drapes in distraction. "So – what's the plan for tomorrow?"

Mary finished changing Emily and set her carefully back in her crib, "Well, they're arriving at around half-twelve, we should probably be there to meet them at the station. Then we'll take them to the village hall and give them something to eat while we – sort everything out with the billeting officers and the host families." She added uncomfortably

Rebecca gave her a wry look, "I take it some of these 'host families' still aren't happy about taking in children?"

"Well I'm sorry but they'll just have to force themselves to be happy!" Mary responded in an indignant hush. "Do you think those mothers want to give their children up? No, they're doing it because number one, it's safe and number two it's the law. These mothers, they're trusting us with their children," She rubbed her temple, "And we have a duty to care for them while they're here. If some people aren't happy with that then I shall take it upon my responsibility to make them happy."

Rebecca nodded diligently. "I don't doubt that for a second Mama."

"And besides," Mary continued airily, "It's not as if we're inviting in street urchins who have just wandered out from under rock. These children would've had all sorts of hygiene inspections and cleanliness checks."

Rebecca resisted the strong urge not to say something sarcastic. Instead, she released a low breath and wandered towards the window where she gazed out into the dark grounds.

Mary glanced down at Emily to check she was still sleeping before suggesting tentatively, "Why don't you come down with your grandmother and myself tomorrow? See if you can help with some of the children?"

"Mama -" Rebecca started in an instant tone of dismissal but was cut off sharply by her mother.

"I really think it'll do you some good!" Mary eyed her daughter who stood by the window with her back facing her. "Maybe it'll help you – channel whatever feelings you need..." She trailed off as Rebecca's posture stiffened. Mary sucked in a sharp breath, knowing she had to choose these words very carefully. "I just mean – it'll do you some good to focus your attention on the war effort."

Rebecca shrugged, still staring at her own distorted reflection in the window. "If you say so." She vaguely heard the sigh escape her mother's lips before a wavering shape in the distance caught her eye. Now fully alert, Rebecca tried to squint in order to see further but she couldn't see past the large shadow cast by the oak tree. Then to her astonishment a dark figure stepped out from behind the tree, forcing her stomach to plummet in fear.

"Mama," A shocked gasp escaped her throat, "I think someone's watching us from outside."

"What?" Mary hurried towards the window and peered out. "Where? I can't see."

"Right there." Rebecca jabbed her finger towards the mysterious figure who was now stood facing them directly. "Look, they're watching the house. See?"

Mary drew back unabashed. "It's probably one of the officers taking a midnight stroll around the grounds. You know how many people wander in and out of this house. It's like a hotel." She muttered, her voice laced with disapproval. However she softened as she stroked her daughter's cheek, "I know what you're really thinking darling. Please don't worry about – about Tim."

Rebecca snapped her head towards her mother in ire. "I wasn't even thinking about him Mama, I swear." She glanced back at the figure still facing the house, her throat fading dry as it refused to move. "This person is much bigger than Tim." She choked.

"Come away from the window and stop doing this to yourself." Mary ordered firmly, guiding her daughter out of the nursery and back to her room, despite her meagre protests. "It must've been one of the officers, who else could it be?" She helped Rebecca back into bed and pulled the covers around her nice and tight. "Now get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Do you really think I can be of some help?" Rebecca asked sceptically as she settled back on the pillow.

"Of course I do!" Mary replied, careful to keep the relief from seeping through, "Everything will change from now, you'll see."

* * *

><p><em><strong>February 7<strong>__**th**__** 1941**_

Mary fiddled with her gloves nervously, glancing at the dark green train screeching to a halt at Downton station. The billeting officers paced the platform with clipboards clutched in their hands.

"Here they come." Rebecca said anxiously, rubbing her hands together for warmth as the porters wrenched open the carriage doors. One by one the children all filed out, scuffling in small groups or clutching each other in trepidation, bundled up warm with their gas masks slung across their necks.

"Oh poor dears, look at them, they all look so terrified," Cora said with compassion as they started to walk down the platform towards the cluster of children who just stood gaping at them.

"It can't be easy for them Grandmama." Rebecca said sadly, "To be separated from their families, their home, their lives."

"Well then I suppose it's up to us to make them feel as welcome as possible." Mary responded with resolution.

"That's easier said than done Mary," Isobel countered, forcing both Mary and Cora to sigh in exasperation. "You see it'll be quite an adaption for these children, being thrust into country life all of a sudden. The city and urban living is all they know."

"Well, war forces us all to adapt." Mary replied in a measured voice and then adding with a shred of emphasis to her tone while she adjusted her hat, "Isn't that what you're always telling us?"

"Hello everyone!" Rebecca greeted loudly before Isobel could respond. "Welcome to Downton. I'm Lady Rebecca," She pointed to her mother and grandmother who beamed when introduced, "And this is my mother Lady Grantham, my grandmother – the Dowager Lady Grantham and..." She cast a hesitant glance at Isobel, "My other grandmother Mrs. Crawley. We're all very happy to have you here and we hope you'll enjoy yourselves as much as you can."

"Now we're going to take you all to the village hall where some very nice, very friendly families will be waiting to take you – to their home." Mary said kindly. "Where you'll be staying for... well, until further notice." She added hastily.

"So if you'd all follow me in an orderly fashion!" Isobel regimented briskly, taking the lead with swift confidence. "Chop, chop!"

Cora released another sigh as the children hurriedly trooped past them, following Isobel as if she were a Major. "Whose idea was it to invite her along?" She asked her daughter with polite irritation.

Mary raised her brow before attaching herself to the throng of children, "No one's. She invited herself."

Once they had all assembled themselves in the Downton village hall and were fed a reasonably hearty meal, the host families were ushered inside to choose their child like cattle at an auction. The Crawley women stepped back and watched the selection process begin. Many local nobles, whom had befriended the Crawley's for many years, naturally selected the ones who looked neat enough to pass off as young ladies and gentleman. The farmers selected the taller lads who looked like they could be of some use shifting cows. Kinder families chose the less fortunate children whom they had taken pity on and others picked the child who thought would give them less grief. It was rather horrible to watch siblings become separated from one another. Many a time the billeting officers would have to haul away a younger child clinging to their brother or sister, who had not been picked because they were too big.

"Oh Mama isn't there anything we can do?" Rebecca cried as they were forced to watch a toddler being dragged off his brother's leg, kicking and screaming.

Mary tore her eyes away from the scene, unable to watch at all. "I'm afraid not." It was all she could say. She didn't make up the rules; she just had to watch them carried out. After the hall gradually emptied and the last host family had gone, only one small child remained behind. A young boy who couldn't have been older than five stood quivering in the corner of the hall.

"Poor little boy." Cora muttered quietly as she cast a worried glance around the deserted hall, "Isn't there anyone left to take him?"

"Yes." Isobel answered evenly, shooting a pointed look at the Dowager Countess.

Cora however did not pick up on the woman's hint. "Who?" She frowned. Mary exchanged a weary glimpse with Rebecca.

"You of course." Isobel replied in exasperation.

Cora's eyes widened in shock, she sputtered out a nervous laugh, "Me? Oh, no, no I – I couldn't possibly!"

"Why?" Isobel countered sharply. "You have a perfectly large cottage, big enough to accommodate a child of his age I'm sure!"

Cora released an angry huff, "I see your point. Thank you Isobel for being very straightforward on the guests permitted into my house."

"Stop it you two!" Rebecca chided. "Can't you see you're upsetting him even more?" Both women effectively shut up.

Rebecca carefully padded towards the cowering little boy, her footsteps echoing around the barren hall. At closer inspection the little boy looked rugged and almost unkempt. He backed away fearfully as the young lady approached him. Rebecca stopped suddenly with a smile full of reassurance. "Hello," She said softly, bending down to his level. "It's all right, you're quite safe now. My name's Rebecca. Can I see yours?" The little boy stared at her with dark eyes as she peered at the name tag fastened around his neck. "Peter Levitt, four years old." She muttered in disbelief, turning back to her grandmother and beckoning her to come forth.

Cora glanced at Mary and Isobel with utter hesitation before shuffling herself towards the pair. Peter flinched as he eyed her cane. "Hello – Peter." Cora greeted kindly, "Would you like to come and stay in my house?"

Peter threw a quick glimpse at Rebecca. At her smile of encouragement he turned back to the Dowager and nodded slowly. Everyone breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Come on my dear," Cora uttered with a sad look back at Mary as she took the child's little hand and proceeded to lead him – home.

* * *

><p>"Are they still not back yet?" Matthew asked as he strode into the music room for tea, only to see Edward, Georgina and Tommy seated around the small table.<p>

"Apparently not." Edward replied, casting a pointed glare around the room. It wasn't as big as the drawing room but it was comfortable enough to live in.

"Are you all right?" Matthew asked in a measured voice, pretending to thumb through the stack of books on the piano, all the while watching his son from the corner of his eye.

Edward shrugged indifferently as he spooned granules of sugar into his cup with hasty speed, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason." Matthew sighed, settling himself on the sofa. Since the day they had received the news of Ray Pratt's death, Matthew had remained a fairly civil relationship with his son. He desperately wanted to continue his investigation into the HMS Worthington but for some reason he felt that he couldn't do it alone. He needed reinforcements to help him, close reinforcements, people he could feel he could trust. However he never mentioned a word of this in front of Edward, lest he explode into another one of his tirades. No, Matthew knew he had to play this one smartly. He kept a close eye on Edward but not too much, at least needed Edward to think he had backed off.

"So Eddie," Tommy said casually, keen to clear some of the awkward cobwebs lingering around them. "Uncle Matthew tells me that you were thinking about joining the Royal Navy?"

Edward paused, his hand half-way to the milk jug before drawing it back and turning to his cousin with a tight smile. "I'm sure you remember it was always a great boyhood dream of mine to join the Navy." He threw a disdainful glance at his father, "Before Papa and Grandpapa put an end to it."

Georgina sidled a warning look at her disgruntled father. "They were just trying to look out for you Eddie. They didn't know what the future would bring."

"Maybe not but I'm sure they might've guessed." Edward responded curtly, sipping his tea while watching his father over the rim of the cup. Matthew kept his eyes focused on his plate as he chewed on a biscuit very slowly, his jaw muscles tightening with every bite. He knew Edward was trying to goad an argument out of him for the sake of venting but now wasn't the time or place.

Luckily he was saved from any retort as the door swiftly creaked open and in trooped his wife followed by his mother and daughter.

"There you are!" Matthew exclaimed in grateful relief, rising from his sofa as they settled down, save Mary who hovered anxiously by the door. "How was it?" He asked curiously.

Mary gave him a hesitant smile before replying casually, "It was fine."

"Good." Matthew responded with a smile and was about to sit back down when Mary made a declaration.

"Everyone, I have someone I'd like to introduce you to." She said quickly, stepping aside to let her mother enter who had Peter by the hand. "This is Peter Levitt and he'll be staying with your Grandmama for the duration of the war."

Matthew took a split second to recover his shock before rising to greet the little boy. As soon as he started towards him, Peter clung tighter to Cora's hand and shrunk behind her. Matthew stopped, startled. "It's all right." He said softly, "You don't have to be frightened of us."

"What's wrong with him?" Edward asked loudly, prompting several reprimanding looks from his family.

"We're not sure yet," Rebecca replied worriedly, "He hasn't said a word to anyone."

"He's probably just shy." Georgina said as she gave the boy a comforting smile which he did not return. "Perhaps Benji can bring him out of his shell?"

"Good idea!" Cora responded, beaming at the child, "Peter, I have a grandson who's a little older than you but he's very nice and very sweet, I'm sure he'll look after you."

Again there was no response from Peter, only a blank, dull stare.

"I'll take him up." Rebecca muttered, scurrying to rescue the poor child who clearly felt uncomfortable under the gaze of so many people in such a large and fairly grand room. "Come on Peter." She led the silent boy out of the room.

Cora closed the door behind them and turned to her family with a sad frown, "Poor boy. Goodness only knows what kind of horrors he's seen up in London. And a child of his age." She shuddered.

"At least you know he won't make too much noise." Edward said lightly.

"Thank you for that Edward." Matthew countered in a sharp tone which drew everyone else's attention to the lingering tension between them.

* * *

><p>Later that day, Matthew was reclining against the window sill in his study, a tumbler of scotch clutched in his hand as he watched Edward sitting alone under the tree with a book open on his lap. He sipped the liquor with swift ease, allowing the cool glass to just settle on his lip as he closely observed his son, yearning to decipher the lie he was trying to cover up. Why couldn't his son just talk to him? Why did he seek out every opportunity to avoid him? Was he even reading that damn book -?<p>

The door tentatively creaked open, forcing Matthew to turn in abrupt haste. "Mary." He breathed as his wife stole into the room, her face contorting into concern.

"Are you all right?" She asked in a measured voice though she knew the answer already. Nevertheless, she had to hear it spill from his lips. Though why she had to hear it was beyond her. Perhaps she could never be content with a lie.

"I've had better days." Matthew replied, trying hard to fight the sarcasm seeping into his voice. Then making a pitiful attempt to replenish the situation, he steered the subject off his mood. "How's the little Levitt boy doing? Peter is it? He seemed to be quite shaken upon meeting all of us."

Mary accepted his change of topic with good grace. "He was. Perhaps bringing him back to this house was a mistake. It must've been far too grand for him."

"What's his story, do we know?" Matthew asked curiously.

Mary shrugged, "His papers say he's an only child, his father died at Trondheim and his mother's still in London, working in a shell factory. That's all we know for now. Maybe he'll say something to Mama tonight, you know – away from all this – tension." She watched her husband carefully for at least a flicker of reaction, an acknowledgement, something, God, anything!

No, he just nodded at her, his face set completely stoic though his eyes did sway towards the window for a split second. Mary peered over his shoulder and into the garden which lay under a dismal ambience. Sure enough, she saw Edward reading under a tree in the distance.

"I was thinking of inviting the Deveroe's for our anniversary dinner next week." Mary suggested cautiously. "Maybe extend the invite to George and Clarissa too. What do you think?"

But Matthew had frozen at the word anniversary. What month was it? It can't be February already can it? Of course it could, Emily was over a month old already! Damn! How time flies! He could've slapped himself for being so forgetful! So much was going on, he found it impossible to keep up!

"I think it's a splendid idea." Matthew said in a controlled voice, to cover up his sudden remembrance of one of the biggest dates in his life. "I think he needs someone to bring him out of his shell. Despite his buried feelings for Clarissa, he can be forced to act civil for her."

"That's what I was thinking too." Mary said gently, her eyes flickering from her husband to her son. Finally, when she could take no more of this, she decided to smash the ice once and for all. "Matthew are you and Edward still fighting?" She asked in utter incredulity as Matthew's eyes fluttered shut. "Oh Matthew why can't you two sort things out?"

"You know where Edward is concerned, nothing is ever that simple!" Matthew shot out. He pinched the bridge of his nose, instantly regretting his biting tone. It wasn't her fault and he shouldn't be taking it out on her. "I'm sorry." He said in a much softer tone, gazing at her as she stood inches away from him calmly and quietly, hands clasped at her front. "God, Mary I'm sorry I – I don't know what's come over me." He glided back to the window.

"Darling you know Edward isn't the only one I worry about." She said quietly, taking her hand in his and caressing his knuckle with her thumb. "You can't pursue this investigation all on your own. Surely, that's why we brought – them into this house isn't it?" Mary jerked her head towards the wall where the sound of the officers scraping and shuffling about, could be heard clearly through the thin plaster. She rolled her eyes at her husband in an irksome manner. "At least M15 are quiet. And get on with their business as usual."

But she had struck a sharp cord within Matthew. His head snapped up to stare at her, an idea forming rapidly in his mind. "You know darling – I think I might go back up to London tomorrow. I want to see someone who might be of some help."

Mary's eyes clouded with austerity as she sucked in a sharp breath, ready to start scolding him, "Matthew I don't think you should be -"

"You were right." Three little words Matthew knew were bound to shut her up. He gave her a dry grin, "I can't do this on my own. I want to get someone to help me, someone whom I can trust."

"Whom will you ask?" Mart asked lightly as she played with the lapels of his jacket.

"I have someone in mind." Matthew replied curtly, keen to leave names and details out of it until he actually asked the person. He didn't want Mary dragged into all of this as well.

"So tell me who else is coming to this – big anniversary dinner of ours?" Matthew asked, attempting to keep his tone casual yet his face could've revealed all if Mary wasn't so distracted.

"Well..." Mary fidgeted with the sleeve of her garden, her expression sheepish. "We're keeping it small. Close friends you know? The Napiers, the Deveroe's..." She muttered the next few words. "The Duke and Duchess of Denville -"

"What?" Matthew blanched, utterly thrown. "I would hardly call them close friends. We haven't seen each other in thirteen years."

"We saw them five months ago!"

"Mary you know I mean." Matthew said airily, "Is this your attempt at matchmaking our daughter with Dominic, the son of a Duke? Because as fond as I am of the boy, he is a little..." Matthew tried to use his hands to make his point but failed. "Enthusiastic? When it comes down to shooting down the British aristocracy."

"I don't know what you mean." Mary said primly. "Amelia's coming, Joe's coming back home that week and Clarissa and George are coming too. Along with Dominic." She added dilligently. "It's for the young people."

Matthew scoffed, "Of course it is."

* * *

><p><em><strong>February 8<strong>__**th**__** 1941**_

Isobel breezed through the cluster of people scuttling around the foyer, adjusting her hat and gloves as she addressed her granddaughter over her shoulder. "Just take whatever dolls you want to give to the little girls, we can always try and find a way to ambush Benji later and coax him to part with some of the toys he's outgrown. I'll also ask Edward if he can help bring the puppet show and puppets down to the village hall later on." She stopped and turned to face Rebecca with a nostalgic smile. "I'm sure if you ask him nicely, you can both put on a Punch and Judy show for the children. Like you used to do for us when you were younger."

Rebecca tried to stop the smirk of amusement leaking through her lips. She shuffled the box of dolls in her hand as she said evenly, "I'm sure Edward would love that."

"Oh would he now?" Edward's indignant voice rang clear through the foyer. Isobel and Rebecca craned their necks up to see him glowering down at them from the east balcony.

"Ah, we were just talking about you!" Isobel called up in such a casual voice, Rebecca had to suppress a giggle.

"I know, my ears are on fire!" Edward hollered back in a sour tone. "And before you ask, the answer is no!"

Rebecca's face melted into disappointment, "Why not?"

From his position on the balcony, Edward still managed to shoot a glare of disbelief at her. "Are you being serious? I have other things to be getting on with; I really don't have time to stick my hand up a puppet's - !"

"Edward!" Mary chided as she joined them at the bottom of the stairs, casting reprimanding looks at the officers around her who were chuckling at Edward's flippancy. She lifted her head up and said with calm severity, "You will do the puppet show with your sister as it is very important to those children." Edward released a huff of annoyance before disappearing into the corridor. Mary shot Isobel a winning smile as she too, pattered off to the music room.

Still chortling at Edward's reaction, both Isobel and Rebecca had just stepped over the threshold when Isobel suddenly remembered that she had forgotten the evacuee list. After quickly instructing Rebecca to carry the boxes down to the hall and informing her she'll follow up shortly, Isobel turned on her heel and scurried back inside the house, her eyes briefly wandering around the room yet falling on her other granddaughter who was seated folornly on the bottom step, her head resting on the bannister.

"Georgina?" Isobel asked in concern, drinking in her granddaughter's troubled face. "What's the matter my dear?"

In a daze, Georgina acknowledged her grandmother with a tired smile before using the banister to pull herself up. She had just got used to walking without her stick and still sometimes found that under pressure, her legs were quite capable of giving way without warning, (something her father warned her would happen).

"Nothing's the matter." Georgina said in a quiet tone which told the elder woman that it was quite the contrary.

"Come on my dear," Isobel said gently, guiding her to the small bench under the stairs where they'd likely to be graced with some privacy. "Now, tell me what's wrong."

Georgina shook her head swiftly, "You have to get to the activities morning."

"I'm sure Rebecca can hold the fort for a few minutes." Isobel said firmly, "She's growing quite capable."

Georgina gave her grandmother a sad smile. "I know she is. And I envy her for it." At Isobel's confused look she continued, "She's helping with the war effort, which can't be said about me." She sniffed, biting her trembling lip and glaring down at her hands while her eyes filled with tears, "Also - I just found out this morning - that Stanley Molton was killed in South Africa. I've known him all my life Granny!"

"Oh how awful for him!" Isobel sighed, encircling her arms around her granddaughter's shoulders as she sobbed softly. "My dearest girl, there's nothing so worse than to find out someone your own age has died. Still, I hope you have fond memories of the boy?"

The eldest Crawley girl tugged her lips into a fine smile, "Of course all I can think of now is the last time I saw him. We were seated next to each other at the Huntington's shooting party, the last one they had before the war. He talked to me non-stop about how much he hated Nazi ideology and if he could – he'd take down Hitler and the entire Nazi party single handed!"

Isobel snorted, "I think I remember who you're talking about now." Her eyes grew wistful and full of regret, "Yes, the Moltons were good people. It is sad when you lose someone in tragedy, but there you have it. That's war for you my dear."

"I know and it's so trying!" Georgina responded in frustration, "I feel so useless here! Sitting by idly, twiddling my thumbs while people I know, people I grew up with are risking their lives every day! And we women need to be a part of it too – just as much as the men!" Georgina wiped her eyes with the corner of her wrist, saying with complete and utter resolution, "Amelia told me that women are going to get conscripted this month. I need to find a job and make myself useful to the war. I don't want to wait for the call up, if it ever comes for me. I want to do something now."

"What about your police work?" Isobel asked incredulously, "DCI Brownlow says you've been very helpful."

Georgina shook her head, "He's being polite. I was just getting in his way. And I didn't feel properly valued anyway." She mumbled, "Besides, it was always going to be temporary arrangement. And that was just me taking over a man's role while he was away. We didn't know how long this war would drag on for. But now we're getting called up too and I want to do my part."

"I understand." Isobel replied quietly. She couldn't help but remember a time long ago when she stood in the same foyer, having a similar conversation with another Crawley girl...

"Georgina," Isobel started in a voice full of suggestion as her hand slid towards her handbag, "I understand what you're saying. I suppose it must be hard to see all or nearly all the young men you grew up with, including your brothers, go off to war. But if you really want to work, and I mean really – then why not join the Women's Auxiliary Air Force? That was your original plan wasn't it?"

Georgina nodded sheepishly, "It was. But then I heard that it was like the Auxiliary Territorial Service and I'll really be used as a spare part or a chauffeur. I don't want to be a driver, I want to do a real job and help the war effort properly."

Isobel couldn't help but smile at her determination, she swiftly unclasped her handbag and slipped out a small leaflet for the Women's Auxiliary Air Force. "I've been carrying this around ever since Joe told me he'd planted the idea in your head." Isobel said tenderly as she handed the leaflet to her granddaughter. "Read that and see for yourself what you make of it before you write it off completely." She patted her granddaughter's hand, "You know Georgie, I had been secretly supporting your decision all the way. I know your parents won't approve, but you have a firm head on your shoulders and you should use it to your advantage. Women in this war have much more opportunities than they did in the last war. Just ask your Aunt Sybil. I can remember having a similar conversation right here when she was about your age."

Georgina's eyes widened and her lips split into a genuine smile full of intrigue. "Did you? Did you really give her advice about nursing?"

Isobel nodded, "I did and I'm going to give you some advice too. Now, I know my son. Your Papa is very dear to me but by God can he be stubborn!"

Georgina gave her a watery chuckle, "Just a little!"

"And I know that your Papa will want to make sure that you're absolutely ready before you leave home to start training." Isobel clasped her granddaughter's hand, her eyes glistening with excitement. So, I've been thinking – if you're one hundred per-cent serious about joining the WAAF then why not ask Joe if he can teach you the basics about flying and how aeroplane engines work? Therefore when you do start your training course, you can know a little more than nothing at all. That way, your parents won't be so hard on you."

Georgina broke into a laugh, full of gratitude and it warmed Isobel's heart to see her granddaughter looking the happiest she had seen her in months. "Thank you Granny," She said with sincerity, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I'm sure you're right. Once Papa sees how much I know about planes, then he'll have to let me go! Joe's due some leave in a few days, I'll ask him if he can help me then."

Isobel sidled a meticulous look at her, "Or you could always ask your good friend Dominic? I'm sure he'll be quite pleased to show you around his Spitfire."

Georgina blanched in shock. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in embarrassment, blushing furiously at her grandmother's innocent cheek. "Granny, please."

"I also told your Aunt Sybil that it would be useful to learn some basic cooking tips from Mrs Patmore, remember her? Georgina nodded. "Well maybe you could ask Mrs Plum if she'll teach you yours." At Georgina's surprised stare, Isobel continued kindly, "Nothing fancy, just basic skills such as boiling an egg, heating up soup, chopping up vegetables – general things like that. Just so you have some worldly skills. I know you and your sister have already learned to adapt without a maid which gives you a little bit of a head start - but like I told your Aunt, cooking is a useful skill to have, it won't make you seem completely incompetent when you start training. You don't want them to think you're inadequate to fly a plane or fix an engine just because you can't make a cup of tea!"

Georgina shook her head, feeling slightly put-off by her grandmother's suggestion. "No, I don't want to seem inadequate because I can't do something."

"Also, it will really show your parents that you're ready to take on the world!" Isobel added with a grin.

Georgina nodded half-heartedly. "If you really think that will help." She responded with some hesitancy.

"Well they can't possibly say no to you, not when you've gone to so much trouble to show them that you want your independence!" Isobel said boldly. "So why don't you ask Mrs Plum if she'll teach you how to cook? Then if you pick up on it quickly like your Aunt Sybil did, you might be able to bake a cake for your parents anniversary dinner!"

"Bake a cake?" Georgina echoed in disbelief, the smile slipping off her face like melted butter off a knife. "Oh, I'm not sure I can waste our food rations like that." She shook her head with a diffident smile, "No, the house is barely getting enough from our rations as it is and what with this dinner next week - Mama would not approve of me getting in the way downstairs. No, I suppose I'll just have to improvise at being worldly to them. Like you said, I can adapt without a maid. I can draw my own bath, do my own hair and make my own bed too." She shifted uncomfortably on the bench cushion. "Not to mention I was injured in the Blitz. Is all that not enough to convince them I'm ready for the world?"

Isobel tried to mask her unhappy frown with a forced smile yet a sneaky plan was quickly spinning through the woman's mind. "Well, how about we keep it to ourselves for now? You can still learn cooking from Mrs Plum and ask her to  
>keep quiet, tell her you want it to be a surprise for your parents. Then at the big dinner next week, we can announce your decision to join the WAAF at the table in front of everyone and tell your parents how hard you've worked for their approval. You'll have myself, Joe and if it comes down to it – Mrs Plum to back you up. That way, your parents will have a hard job of shooting down your plan in front of the grand company."<p>

"Haven't we had enough of keeping secrets Granny?" Georgina countered wearily, "I mean, I know I can apply for a position on the WAAF without my parents permission now I'm over eighteen. But I still want them to be happy about me joining and don't think it's fair to ambush them like that. Even if I can't make them listen to me." She added, trying to keep the bitterness from leaking through.

"You have to make them listen to you my dear!" Isobel pressed, "Now, what your brothers did was wrong yes, but you have to admit – it worked didn't it?" She gestured to the group of M15 agents bustling through the foyer to the library.

Georgina reclined against the uncomfortable bench as she contemplated her grandmother's comment. Maybe for once she should be impulsive. If her brothers were allowed to be then why shouldn't she? Because she was a lady? Because she had expectations to withhold? She almost scoffed out loud. Certainly not!

"All right." Georgina said suddenly with such determination she surprised even herself. "I'll learn how to cook and I suppose if I can try to - bake a cake, like you say and then..." A steady smirk spread across the young lady's lips, "I can serve it at the anniversary dinner! That'll show everyone I'm ready! Then they'll have no choice but to listen to me!"

Isobel threw her a look of such pride, she didn't need to say anything. She caressed her granddaughter's hair with affection before rising swiftly and giving her one final nod of approval.

Georgina watched her grandmother leave with a feeling of fierce pride and exhilaration sizzling through her. She felt practically dizzy with the excitement as she traipsed down to the kitchen with the WAAF leaflet clutched tightly in her hand. Yes, if her parents won't listen then she'll simply have to force them to listen. And wasn't Dominic always teasing her about being too sheltered and not exposed enough? Ha, she'll show him too.

* * *

><p>Matthew smiled politely at the man in front of him who just stared back at him in expectancy. He had been trying to think up how to ask him for help all the way from Downton, but now he was here, he couldn't do it.<p>

"Lord Grantham?" Colonel Redford pressed, "What is it you wanted to ask me?"

Matthew nodded, more to himself, before sucking in a sharp breath. "Right. First of all let's drop all this Lord, Colonel - formal nonsense, I think that'll be a good start."

"A good start to what?" Colonel Redford asked wearily.

"I'll get right to the point." Matthew blurted out nervously, cursing himself for not being more prepared with his plea. "You know my son, Edward?"

Colonel Redford shifted ever so slightly in his seat before nodding, his jaw grinding together.

"Well, it's this whole HMS Worthington business. He's hiding something, I know it, I can feel it." There. He had finally said it. Matthew flipped back in his seat, utterly oblivious to Colonel Redford's overwrought silence. "Kenneth, I'm losing so much sleep over this. I can't begin to tell you how much worry this child of mine is dragging me through. And I know it's not intentional – but if he would just tell me what's going on then maybe I could help him."

Colonel Redford's eyes flicked up to Matthew's in surprise. "So – he hasn't told you anything? Edward, he – he hasn't – said anything or, or given any indication that something occurred on that ship."

"I can't remember." Matthew replied absently, prompting Redford to breathe a sigh of relief. "Although he did warn me to not to pry. Like that'll ever work."

"He said that?" Colonel Redford shot out, his demeanour stiffening, "Why?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out!" Matthew said pointedly, leaning his elbows on the desk and staring with desperation at his old comrade in arms. "And I need you to help me do it Kenneth."

"Me?" Colonel Redford retorted in shock, his eyes growing wider and more deranged by the second, "Matthew - Why in God's name -?"

"Because I know something is wrong and I can't do this by myself." Matthew interrupted steadily, "Ever since his old friend, Ray Pratt was found, having allegedly committed suicide, Edward has been acting very oddly."

"What do you mean, 'allegedly committed suicide?'" Colonel Redford asked harshly, his hand moving towards the breast pocket of his uniform.

Matthew threw him a sceptical look from across the table. "Come on Kenneth it's just us here. Naval Officers on the ship are vanishing off the face of the earth, soldiers – soldiers on that ship suddenly turning up dead."

"It was just the one!" Colonel Redford stated with defiance.

"From the same ship?" Matthew challenged.

Colonel Redford shrugged half-heartedly, his hand drawing into the folds of his drab army uniform while his eyes fixed on the man in front of him. Suddenly, he whipped out his handkerchief and dabbed at the beads of sweat cloistering around his brow.

"I'm sorry; I'm putting you under pressure." Matthew said softly, watching his old friend in concern. "But you know I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate. This is my _son_ Kenneth." Matthew struggled not to let his voice break, "If he's in trouble or in any danger, I need to know."

"Matthew -"

"Please." Matthew implored, his eyes shimmering with determination, "Please Kenneth. Will you help me find out what's going on once and for all?"

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	45. The Anniversary Dinner

**Author's Note:**Hey, Merry Christmas everyone! As this chapter is so long, and we have so much to cover, I've decided to split it into two parts, otherwise it'll just be too long. Otherwise I'd have to wait till after Christmas to post it and I didn't want to do that to you.

Anyway, we find out a little more about HMS Worthington - and even more in the next chapter.

So enjoy this one and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 45 – The Anniversary Dinner<strong>

**_September 30th 1938_**

_"The settlement of the Czechoslovakian problem, which has now been achieved is, in my view, only the prelude to a larger settlement in which all Europe may find peace." Neville Chamberlain, Britain's Prime Minister announced in a voice drenched with smugness. _

_Fourteen year old Edward, stood in front of his father's desk and fidgeting impatiently, just rolled his eyes. Matthew cast him a chiding look before turning his ear back to the wireless, listening with intense attention to Chamberlain's speech. _

_"This morning I had another talk with the German Chancellor, Herr Hitler, and here is the paper which bears his name upon it as well as mine. Some of you, perhaps, have already heard what it contains but I would just like to read it to you: ' ... We regard the agreement signed last night and the Anglo-German Naval Agreement as symbolic of the desire of our two peoples never to go to war with one another again."_

_Matthew clapped his hands together, his face melting into sheer relief. Finally he turned back to his son. "I knew he'd manage to make a deal. Of course I had complete faith in Chamberlain the entire time."_

_Edward scoffed, "Of course you did. Can you sign my form now?"_

_"Well, seeing as there's not going to be a war with Germany – the answer's no, you're going back to Eton and that's that." Matthew stated curtly, pushing the form back across his desk towards his son before picking up his parker pen and returning to his letter writing._

_"What? But Papa -" Edward snapped but his tirade was swiftly cut short by the sound of jubilant applause emitting from the speaker._

_"My good friends, for the second time in our history, a British Prime Minister has returned from Germany bringing peace with honour. I believe it is peace for our time. We thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Go home and get a nice quiet sleep."_

_Edward glared at the wireless then back at his father. "Papa I'm almost fifteen!"_

_Matthew glanced up briefly, his brow quirked in a testing fashion, "In six months."_

_"Which means the Royal Navy is the only group of the armed forces that will accept me!" Edward shot back, adding tetchily, "With your permission."_

_"And I don't give my permission." Matthew countered casually without even looking up from his letter. "I'm sorry Eddie but it's for your own good, I'm only thinking of your best interests."_

_"Can't I be the judge of that?" Edward asked hotly, "It is my life, my decision!"_

_"Not while you're still fourteen and living under my roof." Matthew said blandly as he neatly slipped his letter into the small envelope._

_"Then I won't live under your roof! I'll run away and never come back!" Edward responded airily, sticking out his chin in a defiant manner as he glowered at his father._

_Matthew paused, a brief flicker of alarm danced across his face, yet he composed himself calmly as he scrutinized his son. "Oh really? And just where exactly will you go and what will you live off if you don't have my money to support you?" He challenged in hilarity._

_Edward bit his lip, still very much glaring back at his father. "I don't care!" He replied boldly, "Anywhere's better than – than this – this – this..." Matthew just reclined in his chair, watching in amusement as his son searched for the right word to use. "Prison!" Edward spat, his cheeks flushing with anger._

_Instantly he knew he had said the wrong thing. His father held that look in his eye that meant he didn't know whether to laugh out loud at his insolence or strike him for being so ungrateful._

_"I think prison is a bit harsh Edward." Matthew said quietly. "What exactly has your mother and I done that's made your life so unbearable here, you want to sacrifice yourself to the Navy? You've been brought up in a house most people only dream of living in, you've been showered with luxuries every birthday and Christmas, you're being educated in one of the finest, top schools in the country, probably even the world. You want for nothing – and now you want to throw it all away? For what?" He gestured to the wireless with wide eyes, "Eddie, another world war has just been averted! Go back to school, live your life now you've still got one -!"_

_"I don't want to go back to school!" Edward interrupted in a petulant voice, his face melting into a glum expression. "I hate it there! I don't care if there isn't going to be a war anymore, I still want to join the Royal Navy! I've wanted to ever since I was eight years old!"_

_"Edward you're fourteen years old. You'll only grow bored in the Navy," Matthew responded with a tone of dismissal._

_"I tell you where I'll grow bored," Edward rejoined, his voice accelerating in anger, "Stuck behind some cramped desk in the Foreign Office listening to those idiots witter on and on about which countries Hitler will or won't invade and all the while, wishing I was on the sea! I know you and Joe and everyone are probably happy now war with Germany has been averted, but that doesn't mean Hitler's going to just give up. You haven't heard the last of him."_

_Matthew stared at him in utter shock, a glimmer of fear shimmered in his cerulean eyes. "Right." He said in a tone of firm resolution, grabbing a new slip of paper and seizing his pen._

_"W - What are you doing?" Edward stammered, trepidation seeping into his voice. Surely Papa wasn't going to punish him for speaking out his mind against Hitler?_

_"I'm writing a letter to Lord Doncaster, I need to ask him an important favour regarding you." Matthew replied sharply, without looking up._

_"What kind of favour?" Edward huffed._

_"Lord Doncaster has a nephew who works behind a cramped desk in the Foreign Office and I want you to shadow him during your half-term." Matthew explained with simplicity._

_Edward's mouth fell open in complete indignation, "You want me to be stuck with Doncaster's nephew for a whole week? In the Foreign Office?" He breathed, his face contorting as if the mere idea of it all utterly disgusted him._

_"Yes, think of it as work experience." Matthew replied with a smile as he scribbled away._

_"You can't be serious Papa." Edward growled._

_Matthew lifted his head up to gaze at his son, his face completely staid. "Look at me Edward. Have I ever been more serious?"_

_Edward decided it would be best to swallow his sarcastic reply._

_"You need to learn to appreciate the life you've been given, especially now." Matthew continued in a relatively calm voice, "You heard Chamberlain Eddie. This is peace for our time."_

* * *

><p><strong><em>February 11th 1941<em>**

The world was clearly not at peace. Matthew Crawley reclined impatiently against the tall white pillars guarding the war office watching soldiers building a wall of sandbags about six feet away. He checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time – it had just gone a quarter to two. Finally he spotted Colonel Redford scurrying down the stone steps, looking very much as though he'd like to avoid the persistent Earl.

"What are you doing here Matthew?" Colonel Redford muttered from the corner of his mouth as Matthew practically cornered him.

"I just wanted to know if you're still coming to our anniversary dinner on Friday night." Matthew replied evenly, his facial expression remaining neutral.

Colonel Redford turned to his old friend with a sceptical smirk, "Really? You came all this way just to ask me that?"

"And maybe to ask you..." Matthew cast a suspicious glance around him, making sure none of the soldiers within earshot could hear exactly what they were talking about. "Do you remember our old General? General Strutt?"

Colonel Redford scoffed, "How could I ever forget that man?"

"Well, my wife insisted on asking him to the dinner." Matthew said in a low tone, unsure of Mary's exact motives.

"I'm surprised you're still in touch with the old man." Colonel Redford said with a raised brow, "You who didn't want anything to do with the army once the war was over. He must be what, sixty something now?"

"Just about. I've only kept in touch via the odd Christmas card. And now he's a Field Marshal in our old regiment." Matthew replied.

Colonel Redford did nothing to hide his bitter smirk. "General Herbert Strutt, alleged hero of the Somme. If only he could see me now."

"You will see him, you'll see him tomorrow. And I'm sure he'll be proud of what you've achieved." Matthew said with a small smile.

"No! Nothing I ever did was good enough for him." Redford eyed Matthew carefully, "Of course you were always his favourite."

"I don't think General Strutt had favourites Kenneth." Matthew retorted in a clipped voice, "Anyway, I was thinking that maybe we could use him to help us."

Colonel Redford didn't need him to elaborate. He heaved a sigh and shuffled his feet in an awkward fashion, "Look, Matthew I said I'd help you and I am. But we can do this by ourselves. We don't need people like Strutt getting involved."

Matthew frowned in surprise. "Why? With all his contacts, he might be very useful."

"Are you saying I'm not?" Colonel Redford countered through narrowed eyes.

"That's not what I'm saying at all!" Matthew shot back, confused with the General's sudden shift in behaviour. "I wouldn't have asked you for help otherwise!"

"Then why bring Strutt into it?"

Matthew gave him a casual shrug, "He has years of experience on us. I was just wondering what he could make of the situation that's all."

"No, that's not all!" Colonel Redford snapped, his eyes gleaming in sheer anger, "We can't broadcast this around the armed forces Matthew. We have to keep this between us!"

He stalked off in a rage, leaving Matthew to gape after him in bewilderment.

* * *

><p>"Oh, Georgina!" Mary called across the foyer as she spotted her eldest daughter trying to sneak away to her room. "There's been a new addition for Friday's dinner and I need you to help me with the place cards – what's that?" She asked suspiciously, pointing to a white powdery smear across her daughter's left cheek.<p>

Georgina hastily wiped the flour off her cheek, "Nothing. Who else is coming?"

"A Field Marshal who used to be a General in your father's old regiment during the last war." Mary explained, "Field Marshal Strutt is his name. Anyway he said he was in the area and wanted to look in for old time's sake. So I agreed."

"Mama, what are we going to do about them?" Georgina asked tentatively, indicating the many officers striding openly around the foyer.

"We held house parties during the last war when this house was invaded before." Mary said simply.

Georgina gave her a withering look, "But this isn't the last war Mama. This is the Secret Intelligence we've got swarming around the place, not wounded soldiers. Surely by bringing outsiders in here, we're violating one of those secrets acts?"

Mary shifted uncomfortably as her daughter made a truthful point. She had been so excited about planning the dinner and showing Emily off and just looking forward to gaining back a slice of their old life before the war. So much so, she had completely forgotten that it was not to be.

"What do we do?" She asked, more to herself than to her daughter.

"Maybe you could ask them." Georgina suggested, "They can't really say no as it is your house but still – Papa did sign those contracts. Agent Blackwell seems all right but that Rear-Admiral Sheridan – he won't take the idea well. "

Mary threw an irritated glance at the drawing room door which was being closely guarded. "Leave that man to me." She muttered, striding straight towards the drawing room. The officer guarding the door gently blocked her from entering.

"I'm sorry Milady but you can't go in there." He said apologetically, "Rear-Admiral Sheridan is the middle of a very important briefing and he can't be disturbed."

"Well, this is still my house and I have a very important question to ask him – so if you'd kindly excuse me..." Mary tried to sidle past him but he slammed his hand on the doorframe so his arm acted as a barrier. Mary drew back in shock, her hand snatching away from the handle as though it burned her.

"Rear-Admiral Sheridan was very specific Milady." The guarding officer said with calm emphasis yet his eyes glittered dangerously.

Mary straightened up in a superior fashion, adjusting herself with grace as she glared at the guarding officer. "Very well." She replied, her tone dripping with ice and disdain, "Please would you kindly tell Rear-Admiral Sheridan that her Ladyship would like to speak with him as soon as he's finished his – briefing."

"Certainly." The guarding officer nodded in affirmation before morphing back into his safeguard position.

Mary slowly walked back to her daughter who was waiting on the staircase and had clearly witnessed the whole exchange.

"Mama, what happened?" Georgina hissed in concern as her mother climbed the stairs to her. "What did he say to you?"

Mary threw a glimpse over her shoulder before replying in a measured voice, "Nothing darling." She turned back to her daughter with a mischievous smile. If they want to play this game with the Crawley's then so be it. "Nothing I can't handle anyway."

* * *

><p>Edward Crawley lay on his bed, his hands tucked behind his head while he stared at the opulent flower pattern on the ceiling. Usually he preferred to be up and about, keeping active. That way should his thoughts ever stray anywhere – dark - he always had some sort of distraction. But now his sour thoughts drifted towards his stubborn father who was prying into the HMS Worthington. Edward actually laughed out loud at the irony of the whole damn situation! He had been deliberately withholding the truth from his father in the hopes that he could protect him, but now, if anything he'd only ended up dropping his father right into the thick of it all. He needed to make sure his father stayed away from anyone that might be involved with that ship. But how in God's name could he do that without arousing more suspicion?<p>

* * *

><p>Mary had been subtly keeping a close eye on the guarding officer for the past half-hour, patiently waiting for her ally. She'd flit harmlessly from room to room, throwing a glance towards the drawing room door where the guarding officer was still standing stiffly, trying to mask his boredom with a face of significance. Finally, her ally arrived.<p>

Benjamin Crawley shuffled out of the dining room, sidling a questioning glimpse at his mother who was pretending to admire the fireplace. She flicked her gaze towards him and gave him the curt nod, which he responded by smiling. Then he immediately lurched forward onto the floor with both hands, right in front of the guarding officer.

"Golly!" The guarding officer cried, crouching down to help the little boy up while Mary carefully crept towards the drawing room. "Are you all right sir?" He asked in concern, as Benjamin deliberately screwed his face up in false pain.

"Ow!" He wailed, clutching his left arm. "I think my arm's broken!"

"Oh good God!" The guarding officer responded in alarm. "Wait here sir, I'll go and fetch that - Cutler man!" Mary stopped abruptly as he started to stand up, but Benjamin pulled him back down with his right hand at rapid speed.

"Ow!" He howled, watching his mother tiptoe past the officer. "It really, really hurts! First my leg! Now my arm!"

"Here let me see." The guarding officer started to examine Benjamin's arm.

Lady Mary wasted no time. Still maintaining her perfect poise, she opened the drawing room door and dashed inside, outsmarting the guarding officer by a split second.

"Milady you can't go in there!" He yelled in a panic, trying to grab her elbow before she stepped over the threshold, but it was too late.

Rear-Admiral Sheridan stood at the helm of several smartly dressed Naval Intelligence officers, all gathered in front of a large drawing board with a map of what looked like Asia, pinned up against it. All heads swivelled around as Mary gracefully stumbled into the room.

"Lady Grantham!" Rear-Admiral Sheridan huffed in utter indignation over the hasty sound of scraping chairs, as many Naval officers scrambled to their feet in respect for their hostess. Rear-Admiral Sheridan glared at the poor guarding officer standing helplessly beside Lady Mary. "What is the meaning of this Morrison? Did I not say I wanted strict privacy?"

"I'm sorry sir!" Officer Morrison panted while Mary absently flicked a speck of dust off her sleeve. "She – she just pushed right in, I didn't have time to stop her!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake you useless boy, she's a woman! Are you a man or not?" Rear-Admiral Sheridan snapped as he slammed his stick on the table, causing most of his team to jump in alarm. He marched towards Mary, his face flushing in anger. "Really, this is a private meeting! You can't just barge in here!"

Mary straightened up to her full height so she could glower the Rear-Admiral down. Then deciding she'd have a little fun with the situation, she said in a measured voice, "Well, actually Rear-Admiral Sheridan – I wanted to know if you'd all like some tea."

There was a brief silence filled with incredulity before Rear-Admiral Sheridan found his voice and sputtered, "What? Tea! Tea! You interrupt my very important briefing so you could offer us tea? Are you quite mad your Ladyship?"

"I'll thank you not to use that tone when talking to me, not while you're still using my house Rear-Admiral Sheridan." Mary responded with polite iciness. "But yes, you've all been working so hard in here and I thought a nice tea break is just the ticket."

"Thank you for your concern Lady Grantham but my officers will take a break when I say they can take a break." Rear-Admiral Sheridan said in a voice of forced civility, "Now if you'd excuse me..."

"Oh of course!" Mary laughed, pretending not to notice him gesturing pointedly to the door, "Well I'll leave you all to your - meeting." She turned around, proceeding to head out then whipped back round, saying casually, "Oh by the way, it's mine and Lord Grantham's twenty-first anniversary on Friday."

Rear-Admiral Sheridan just shrugged, his expression blank as was his tone. "Happy anniversary to you both." Then muttering under his breath, "And a monument dedicated to his Lordship for lasting this long."

Mary's eyes flickered in disgust but she recovered quickly. "So naturally, we'd be having a little- house party to celebrate. A dinner, nothing fancy. Just a few friends."

"No." Rear-Admiral Sheridan replied firmly while his team looked on in fascination. "Absolutely not. Out of the question. It's too risky."

"Surely not?" Mary countered with a perfectly arched brow.

"In order to host your little soirée, I'll need a list of all your guests so I can run a background check on them." Rear-Admiral Sheridan said with stubborn defiance.

Mary heaved a false sigh, "Oh very well, if you must. I'll ask our housekeeper to give you a list before dinner tonight. There's not very many of them and it shouldn't be too hard to grant them clearance, they're all quite well known in the war office. One couple is the Viscount and Countess of Branksome the other is the Earl and Countess of Doncaster, another is the Duke and Duchess of Denville. Their son is in the RAF with mi-"

"We have a war to fight too Lady Grantham!" Rear-Admiral Sheridan interrupted loudly as if he were talking to a child, "I cannot be wasting the time of myself or my officers, running around after your royal highnesses and their - offspring!"

"Did I mention that we have two very important guests from the armed forces joining us?" Mary responded coolly. "Yes, Field Marshal Herbert Strutt, hero of the Somme." She added with emphasis prompting a flow of excited mutters around the room. "And Colonel Kenneth Redford who served with Lord Grantham in the last war. Remember? The war that was supposed to end all wars?"

Rear-Admiral Sheridan closed his eyes in controlled patience. "Of course I remember Lady Grantham, I was there. Nevertheless, it is still a big ask to get all your guests clearance by Friday."

Mary gave him a tinkling laugh. "I wasn't asking Rear-Admiral, I was telling." She said with breeziness, looking over his shoulder and addressing his team, "They'll be here at half-seven. So if you could try and keep the noise down that will be much appreciated, thank you."

There was a mumble of 'Yes Lady Grantham,' and 'Of course Milady,' rippling through the group. Mary threw them all her charming smile before striding out of the drawing room.

Officer Morrison trailed behind her as they trooped through the foyer, his expression slightly peeved. "There was nothing wrong with your son's leg was there?"

Mary simply threw him an airy shrug. "Really, you Naval Officers are so full of riddles! I don't know what you're talking about."

* * *

><p><em><strong>February 14th 1941<strong>_

Lady Georgina carefully reached into the oven and drew out the freshly baked cake, praying it was better than her last five attempts.

"Not to worry Milady." Mrs Plum had soothed as Georgina gaped at the charred cake, rubbing her forehead whilst trying to hold in tears of embarrassment. "Baking a cake takes time and practice. We'll just have to start again and keep going until we get it right."

"But do we have enough ingredients to do that?" Georgina asked in a small voice, "I don't like wasting food like this."

"That's all right," Mrs Plum said hastily, moving the cake away from the young lady's eyes, "We'll scrape of the burnt bits, cover it up with fruit and cream and give it to the village children. So, grab another bowl and we'll start again!"

Now Georgina lifted her new crisp golden-brown cake out of the tin and placed it on the kitchen table with a smile of relief gracing her face. Mrs Plum waddled over from the sink, her hands covered with flour.

"Well done Milady that looks most impressive!" She exclaimed humbly.

"Do you really think so?" Georgina asked; a tinge of hope seeping into her voice as she twisted her anxious hands into the tea towel. "It doesn't look too burnt?"

"It doesn't look burnt at all!" Mrs Plum replied indignantly, "It looks perfect. It's just a shame we can't use icing anymore, you'll have to smother it in fruit and cream and serve it to them like that."

"Oh, I don't care!" Georgina breathed, finally feeling a sense of real pride settle into her heart at her accomplishment. "I'm just glad I've got it right at long last!" Mr Cutler strode into the kitchen with a look of unease etched upon his face. "Mr Cutler!" She squealed, "Look, I've finally managed to bake a cake! A real cake that you can eat and everything!"

Cutler looked at the cake, his lips thinning slightly before clearing his throat awkwardly. "Milady, the guests are arriving in an hour's time and her Ladyship is fretting that you are nowhere to be seen and have not yet dressed."

"That's my cue to get back to work." Mrs Plum said evenly as she scuttled back to the stove.

Georgina rolled her eyes, determined not to let her mother's tight attitude squash her excitement. "Let her fret all she wants. This cake is for her anyway! Let me finish decorating it and then I'll go up to change." She quickly began spreading thick cream over the top of the cake.

"I still don't feel very comfortable keeping this from your parents, Milady." Cutler said tensely as he moved to the side.

"Oh no please don't tell them Cutler, not yet!" Georgina begged, attaching fruit onto the cake with incredible speed, "The whole point in surprising them with it at this dinner is so they can see that I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Then they can let me join the WAAF, at long last."

Once again Cutler cleared his throat in a disapproving fashion, "Are you still sure that's such a good idea Milady?" He asked emphatically, "You are still recovering from your injury."

"All the more reason to show my parents I'm ready to insert my independence, isn't it Cutler?" Georgina mumbled.

"I still don't approve of such activities for a young lady." Cutler grumbled. "Women flying planes and fixing up engines? Humph! Whatever next?"

Georgina threw him a chastising look. "Really Cutler, you sound more and more like Mr. Carson every day."

Cutler tugged his lips into a curt yet sad smile. "He did train me up well Milady. Perhaps some of his conservative stances have rubbed off on me?"

Georgina giggled, "Perhaps it has. Then again, butlers wouldn't be butlers without their traditional bearings. I wonder what he'd make of Downton Abbey if he could see it now?"

"I have a few thoughts of what he'd say, but I'd rather not voice them if that's all right Milady." Cutler said pointedly.

"Fair enough." She chuckled. Finally she placed the last berry at the centre of the cake and beamed. "There, all finished. What do you think?"

Cutler glanced at the clock in apprehension, "Oh, it's very magnificent Milady, and a very well done, but I really must insist -"

"Yes, yes I know!" Georgina muttered, whipping off her apron. "I'm going up now." An animated smirk crept up on her lips. "I can't wait to see Dom – I mean, Lord Hamilton's face when he sees this. He's always harping on about how sheltered I am; well tonight he's going to eat every one of his words! Just you wait and see!"

"Lord Hamilton?" Cutler echoed, feigning a look of ignorance. "I thought the cake was to show your – parents – that you were independent Milady?"

Georgina swallowed, her pink cheeks growing more crimson under Cutler's knowing stare. "Well – yes of course. But it can't hurt to show Lord Hamilton that I'm more than just a Lady who can sit, sew and curtsey can it?"

Cutler quirked his brow, "If that's what Lord Hamilton thinks of you... then certainly not Milady! The cake will be brought out straight after dessert and then we shall let you take the reins."

Georgina gave him a smile full of gratitude before scurrying upstairs to change for the big dinner.

* * *

><p>The music room had never been more cluttered before. Now that the drawing room had been taken over as a map room, the guests were forced into the makeshift sitting room which Mary had tried to make appealing by dotting a few vases of flowers around the room. Nevertheless, they hadn't had that many people in the house since before the war.<p>

Edward stood between Lady Doncaster and Clarissa making forced small talk between both of them, all the while looking like he'd quite like to kill both his parents and be done with it. Joseph stood amongst the Napiers and the Denville's looking cheerful and much more relaxed than anyone had seen him in months, if not years. He kept sidling hopeful smiles towards Amelia who also appeared to be in a happy mood. Cora had pulled out of the dinner last minute due to Peter suddenly being struck down with a cold and Tommy had slipped away on a secret mission. Isobel was feeling too tired to join in the festivities so she merely ordered a tray for her room and retired early for the night. As young hostesses, Georgina and Rebecca circulated the room, talking to everyone, including Colonel Redford who, seemed to have taken a particular interest in Deveroe Manor. Yet his probing questions were making the Earl of Doncaster quite uncomfortable, drawing attention from the rest of the room.

"But what kind of people are renting it from you?" Colonel Redford pressed.

Lord Doncaster adjusted his stiff tie, clutching his cocktail glass with a firm grasp as if he could shatter it any minute. "I'm afraid I cannot say sir." He said in a voice of forced politeness, "It's confidential. Like Downton Abbey, Deveroe Manor has its uses but I'm afraid we simply cannot say what they are."

"Of course it's all for good use!" George added quickly, "For the war effort."

Edward turned to Clarissa with sudden interest, "Is that true? You've rented out your house for the war effort?"

Clarissa glanced at her mother who had glided off to rescue her father, before turning back to Edward and nodding curtly. "Yes. I think your father spoke to mine shortly after renting out Downton and we managed to persuade him that Intelligence is a very useful factor in this war and we'd be fools not to even consider."

Edward stared at her, sure his ears had lapsed into shock. "Sorry, did you just say you managed to persuade him? You?"

Clarissa blushed, "Well, me and George. And Mama."

"Right." Edward gulped his scotch in one go.

"So, how's your new little sister?" Clarissa asked with a smile.

"Oh, she's all right." Edward replied with indifference. "She doesn't do very much so it's hard to form a proper opinion on her."

"And how did Rebecca find Ireland?" Clarissa asked.

Edward swallowed, his throat fading dry. She was veering dangerously close to home and he needed to quickly steer her off course. So without thinking he blurted out, "How's your other brother – the younger one, Adam? He must be what? Ten now?"

Clarissa's eyes darkened slightly, her position wilting like a flower, almost as if she were hurt by his comment. "Oh, yes he's ten. But – you remember our Adam, he's still the same as before."

Edward nodded diligently, for the first time that night, feeling truly ashamed of himself for being so insensitive. Of all the distraction topics he could've picked, he had to go for that one. Of course he remembered Adam Deveroe. Everyone remembered him, but no one spoke of him for obvious reasons.

Luckily, Matthew had selected that exact moment to enter the sitting room with Field Marshal Strutt, apologizing for the delay but apparently the Naval Officers had been clamouring over each other to get a glimpse of the famous Sir Herbert Strutt, hero of the Somme. Matthew introduced everyone, pronouncing the names of children in such a soft, loving tone; you could almost feel the pride dripping off his voice.

"And I'm sure you remember Kenneth Redford, Field Marshal Strutt." Matthew said, shooting Colonel Redford a careful look.

Herbert Strutt's eyes widened in mild shock, briefly recovering enough to shake his hand. "Of course I remember you. Kenneth Redford, how are you?"

"I'm Colonel Redford now sir." Redford replied smugly, "A highly respected one at that."

Strutt gave him a stiff nod in response, his voice even and his eyes devoid of any emotion. "Yes, I expect you are Redford. You had no problem commanding respect when you though it suited you."

The room was gripped by awkward silence. Then Mary walked in with Emily in her arms, her happy face soothed the aching tension in the room like a balm. All heads turned towards them with gasps of awe. Emily just looked at all of them, her dark eyes growing round in surprise as she tried to acknowledge so many unfamiliar faces.

"Ah, may I present the newest addition to the House of Grantham. My Lords, Ladies and gentleman, this is our daughter, Lady Emily Anne Crawley." Matthew announced in adoration tinged with relief as he encircled his arm around his wife's shoulder.

"Oh, that's your new baby sister!" Amelia squealed to the Crawley children as she flitted towards Mary and the child. "She's so adorable! Can I hold her Lady Grantham? Please!"

"Don't drop her Amelia!" Lady Branksome warned as Mary carefully shifted Emily into Amelia's arms, while Joseph looked on in adoration.

"I think she likes you Mia." He muttered with a smile. Edward rolled his eyes, gone unnoticed by Clarissa who suppressed a small giggle.

"Lady Emily Anne? Oh what a fine name! It suits her!" Lady Doncaster gushed.

"She's a beautiful baby!" Lady Denville breathed, gazing down at the child now squirming in Amelia's arms. "You should be so very proud of yourselves Lord and Lady Grantham!"

Mary and Matthew turned to each other and beamed, their faces lighting up in elation with every complimented sigh and affection showered upon the baby. However, Matthew could feel one person's unhappy vibe radiate through the room. The smile melted away from his face as he sidled a glimpse at Rebecca. She was leaning against the wall, taking tiny sips of water, her face a perfect picture of composure yet Matthew knew his daughter too well. Her large brown eyes, so like her mother's, revealed everything. She was trying with all her might to mask her distress yet she hadn't quite mastered how to do it properly. Matthew tried to move towards her, to comfort her, but he was being practically smothered by his guests who had formed a tight ring around him, so much so, he couldn't actually leave.

Colonel Redford's noticed Matthew's reaction. His eyes narrowed as they travelled from the baby, towards Lady Rebecca who was standing much further apart from the entire group, gazing into her water glass as if she'd like to drown in it.

"What do you think of your little sister Lady Rebecca?" Colonel Redford asked loudly, causing the young girl's head to jolt up. "Isn't she a little beauty?"

"Oh yes she is." Rebecca trilled, plastering on a wide smile and casting a half-hearted glance towards the baby now being passed around the group. "She's - a very beautiful girl indeed!"

"That she is just like all the Crawley girls and a fine credit to her parents!" Lord Denville stated boldly, nudging Matthew with a knowing wink, "Especially to her mother! Well done Lady Grantham!" Mary's smile wavered slightly but she held it well.

"Maybe you should switch to water now Papa." Dominic muttered acidly, misreading Mary's hesitancy and exchanging an exasperated look with his mother. "We haven't even had dinner and you're already making Lady Grantham uncomfortable."

"Oh stop being such a spoilsport you!" Lord Denville said dismissively. "What is my son like?" Dominic turned to Georgina and gave her a sharp look. She rested her hand on his arm in reassurance yet it did little to soften his mood.

"A toast I think," Strutt suggested, raising his glass. "To Lady Emily!"

Everyone bar one copied him and chorused, "To Lady Emily!"

Rebecca caught Colonel Redford watching her and quickly raised her glass so as not to rouse suspicion. "To my little sister Emily." She then had to endure ten more minutes of these, high society folks, all cooing at the baby and listening against her will, to everyone gushing on and on about how beautiful Emily was and how lucky her parents were to be blessed with such a child, especially in such a terrible time. Why was she feeling so upset? Did she want to acknowledge Emily as hers? Rebecca pushed the thought away quickly. No, certainly not. That would mean admitting to the most abhorrent of scandals and she would drag the whole house down with her. If she was to protect Emily, then she'd need to pull herself together and learn to harden herself against the world. Feeling a little bit better, she straightened herself up and approached the rest of the group to admire the baby.

Colonel Redford crept up to her, "She's nice your sister isn't she?"

Rebecca didn't feel her heart pinch. There, she was learning already. "Yes she is. We're all very lucky."

Colonel Redford sipped his drink slowly before asking her casually, "So, how's your brother Edward doing after his brush with hypothermia? Has he recovered?"

"Obviously." Rebecca replied coolly. She didn't know why, but for some reason, she felt very uncomfortable with this man, though she had no reason to be. He was her father's old friend for heaven sake.

"Do you know if he has any plans to return to the army?" Colonel Redford asked curiously.

"Not that I'm aware of." Rebecca said curtly, wondering why he couldn't just ask Edward himself. "I do know that he wanted to join the Royal Navy but he's been so...what is it?" She shrunk slightly under the Colonel's hard stare.

"Sorry, he – he wanted to join the Navy?" Colonel Redford's gaze softened as he interrogated her some more. "Is that a recent decision do you know?"

Rebecca gaped at him. Why was he asking her all this? "Not really. He's wanted to join the Navy since he was a boy, but my father stopped it. It's only after he returned from Egypt, Papa was keen to get him back in again. I think it's because of what had happened over there."

"Interesting." Colonel Redford whispered, more to himself than to her as he watched Matthew chuckling with Lord Branksome and Joseph.

To Rebecca's immense relief, Cutler strode into the room announcing, "Dinner is served."

"I'll just take Emily back upstairs." Mary said softly, shooting a tentative smile towards her daughter who was trying her best not to glare at Colonel Redford as they filed into the dining room.

* * *

><p>The dinner was a moderate success, with much pleasant chatter and decent conversation. But naturally, like all parties held during this troubling time, the conversation drifted towards the subject of war. Yet Matthew and the other men tried to keep it as light-hearted as they could, which turned out to be surprisingly easy as they all found themselves being drawn into Dominic's anecdote about the Berlin Olympics in thirty-six and the rise of Nazi power.<p>

"So, there we all were, seated in the top stalls, cheering everyone on." Dominic started in an animated fashion while everyone took nibbles of their apple pie but fixated themselves on the future Duke's story. "When suddenly – Jesse Owen, that American runner starts bolting forward and it's clear he was going to win, no question. Hitler actually stood up in a rage, completely unable to handle the fact that another race other than his beloved 'Aryan,' one, managed to beat everyone else. And of course, he did and we all cheered along with him! It was such an experience."

"I would've paid good money to see that!" Edward quipped. "Perhaps it's a foreshadowing of the future of this war!" Rebecca could've sworn she saw Colonel Redford cast him a dark look out of the corner of his eye, but it was gone within an instant. She carried on eating her apple pie. Perhaps it was the trick of light?

"You know we did have tickets for the Berlin Olympics," Matthew said wistfully. "But unfortunately my father-in-law was sick and had a turn just before so we decided it best that we remain here."

"It sounds like we missed quite an event." Mary remarked with a smile.

"Only Germany's chance to show off everything it built up after the last war." Lord Denville said with a grunt of disapproval.

"Berlin doesn't look so grand now though." Dominic said with a dry smirk, "Thanks to the RAF." He raised a glass towards Joseph who smiled in response.

Georgina sighed, "Oh, all this – I'll bomb your country because you bombed ours is such a childish attitude!"

Dominic did nothing to hide his scoff. "Clearly you know nothing, this is what war means."

"So I can see." Georgina responded in a clipped tone as she spooned more cream onto her pie.

"Was the Nazi propaganda very intimidating?" Amelia asked hastily, spotting her friend's simmering anger.

"You didn't think anything of it at the time." Lord Denville replied with a shrug, "All those flags strung up everywhere, everyone bowing and scraping to Hitler as if he were the King. That's what's so frustrating. If only we had known what it all meant now..."

There was an uncomfortable silence settling over the room. Mary, eager to slice through some of the tension, turned to Field Marshal Strutt and asked, "How are you finding Downton upon your return Field Marshal Strutt? Has it changed very much in the last twenty-odd years?"

Strutt wiped his mouth with his napkin before replying, "Well Lady Grantham, how do I answer that? It's my second visit, during a second war – yet there seems to be much more heartache and pain emitting from you all." He cast a sad look around the oval table. "I can sense it. You see, before it was just us chaps," He gestured towards the older men at the table, "That walked away bearing the scars." Matthew stared at the crumbs on his plate, the words of his old General driving home more fiercely than ever. Joseph flexed his arm under the table, remembering the bullet wound and that piercing pain as it ripped through his flesh. He threw a glance at Dominic who was staring at the gloves covering his gnarled hands. After three operations, they still couldn't revive all the skin.

"But here," Strutt continued in that same melancholy tone, "It's not just our fighters that are being affected. It's all the women and children, London, other cities all over the country. Everyone has been scarred by this war. It's horrific. I commanded an army in a war that was nicknamed, 'The war to end all wars!'" He shook his head in bitter sadness. "No. Not even close. I feel much sorrow for you young chaps. So very, very much."

Mary wilted in her seat. Her pitiful attempt at lightening the conversation had been shot straight down as all the young men in the room were now glaring at their half-eaten dessert, each lost in their own personal memories.

Thankfully, the dining room door swung open and in marched Cutler balancing Georgina's magnificent cake, adorned with colourful berries and mounds of whipped cream. "An anniversary gift for your Lord and Ladyship." He declared, exchanging a knowing smile with Georgina. "Happy twenty-first anniversary!"

"Oh, Cutler it's beautiful!" Mary gasped, trading a warm smile of surprise with her husband. "But Mrs Plum really didn't have to go through all that trouble!"

"It wasn't Mrs Plum who made the cake Milady." Cutler said in a measured voice.

"No?" Matthew frowned in amusement, "Then who? You?"

"Certainly not Milord!" Cutler huffed with indignation, issuing a round of chortles from the table.

"It was me Papa."

All eyes flicked towards the first daughter of the house. Georgina sipped her wine elegantly, enjoying the stunned reactions on every single person's face.

"What?" Mary asked, her smile frozen in utter shock as she gaped at her daughter.

"Well, Mrs Plum did teach me how to make the cake so I suppose I shouldn't take all the credit." Georgina chuckled. "But I made it for you and Papa, for your anniversary."

"You baked the cake?" Edward shot out across the table, his face contorted into sheer disbelief. "You?"

"Yes, me." Georgina replied with a wide grin, sneaking a look at Dominic from the corner of her eye. "I made it as surprise for Mama and Papa."

"And it's such a lovely surprise!" Matthew exclaimed with such joy. "Even more so because it was made by you."

"You haven't tasted it yet!" Edward quipped, prompting everyone to titter.

"I suppose I've underestimated you Lady Georgina." Dominic whispered to her, clearly impressed.

Georgina just threw him a sweet smile. "You don't know the half of it." She straightened up and addressed the table, "I have a very important announcement to make." Georgina twisted her hands in her napkin as she took in a deep breath, ready to break the news and trying to ignore the looks of consternation etched upon her parents faces.

"Mama, Papa. I want to join the Women's Auxilary Air Force."

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	46. Drunken Mumbles

**Author's Note:**A tentative hello to everyone out there, I'm back. Okay, first of all I think I owe everyone a massive apology for disappearing off the fanfiction scene for what? Over a month now? I am sooo sorry! But let me explain what happened and I think some of you can probably guess what the reason is. (Also, massive, disgusting spoilers for the CS2 ahead so if you haven't been lucky enough to see it run away now). So basically, I uploaded chapter 45 on Christmas Eve and left it on a reasonable ending because I knew it'd be a little while before I started writing again, what with it being the busiest time of year and that.

Then Christmas Day and the Downton Abbey CS happened.

Literally, it was like a wall had shut down on my imagination and I had tumbled into a whirlwind of shock and despair, anger and hurt. I didn't see any point in continuing it because I was so damn upset - really, I didn't know if you guys would even want to read it anymore. It basically went AU after 3x05 but I was prepared to write on because Mary/Matthew is the main focus. Now, it's like...? Anyway, it took a while but I eventually came to the inevitable conclusion that - Dan Stevens is a git. Enough said. So I took my computer off the shelf, wiped away the dust and came back to our story. But I found it surprising how easy I managed to slip back into the story. I think the show is more AU than our fandom tbh.

Anyway, so this chapter follows on from where we left off and we do find out more about HMS Worthington.

So try and enjoy it and tell me what you think please!

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 46 - Drunken Mumbles<span>**

"I am sorry about my daughter's untimely announcement Field Marshal Strutt," Mary apologized as she saw her guests out, "She really does pick her moments."

"Actually, I found it all rather amusing." Strutt replied with a wry smile. "But I'll be lying if I said that the Royal Air Force won't benefit a great deal by gaining someone as headstrong and dedicated as Lady Georgina."

Mary merely laughed lightly at his comment but it was clear by her expression that she thought rather differently.

"Thank you Field Marshal Strutt," Matthew said evenly as he shook the older man's hand. "That means a lot coming from you."

Strutt settled his hat on his head, giving Matthew a swift nod and a knowing look. "I'll be in touch about your concerns Lord Grantham." He swept out of the house, leaving Mary to stare at her husband in a quizzical manner.

Matthew had the decency to turn his attention to Lord Doncaster. He plastered on a warm smile and shook his old friend by the hand, saying with a somewhat sheepish expression, "I am terribly sorry about tonight's fiasco."

"Oh not at all!" Lord Doncaster said with a wave of dismissal, "Children will be children. By the way – Matthew." Lord Doncaster dropped the tone of his voice, surprising Matthew somewhat by the use of his formal name. He cast a dark glance at Colonel Redford who was making conversation with an uncomfortable Rebecca. "That Redford chap, is he an old friend of yours?"

"Very." Matthew answered steadily, "We fought side by side in the last war."

"And you know and trust him well?"

Matthew shrugged, almost stunned. "I –suppose so." Then realizing he must speak truthfully, he sighed, "Granted, I haven't kept in touch with him much since Georgina was born but – you know how it is. The children start growing up, Benjamin came along and then my father-in-law passed away. I became even busier and Edward became even more of a handful..." He trailed off as he watched Lord Doncaster's expression grow warier. "Why, what's the matter?"

"I'm not sure what it is, I can't really put my finger on it, but I don't trust him." Lord Doncaster replied bluntly.

Matthew blanched. "I – I don't know what to say. I know he can seem a bit forward sometimes -"

"No, no it's..." Lord Doncaster sidled a glimpse at Redford then turned back to Matthew with a troubled smile. "Never mind. I'm probably just rushing to judgement." Matthew nodded slowly, accepting his excuse but not wishing to press the matter further.

After the last car had crawled away from the house, Cutler shut the door and Mary promptly rounded on her daughter.

"Well I hope you're pleased with yourself!" She snapped, striding past her husband and towards her daughter who was loitering near the staircase, a stoic expression gracing her face.

"I generally am pleased with myself. I can't really speak for other people." Georgina replied with as little sarcasm as she dared, lifting herself off the banister and proceeding to march upstairs.

"Where do you think you're going?" Mary called airily, "We need to discuss this!"

"There's nothing to discuss Mama!" Georgina yelled back in anger yet her eyes shimmered with hurt. "You know, I really did think that when you saw how much effort I put into baking you that cake – which, by the way, was not easy might I add – I thought you'd be proud."

"Darling we are proud!" Matthew interjected with swift reassurance, his face melting into compassion. "Your mother and I are so very, very proud of you. And I love that you've taken the initiative so far!"

"But?" Georgina prompted, her arms crossed in a very Mary-like fashion which forced Matthew to suppress his grin.

"But - We just think that you're rushing into this too soon that's all." He stated gently.

"Georgie, you've only just recovered," Mary added, her tone a little more empathic, "Try and see it from our point of you, as your parents! We thought you might never walk again! We don't want you putting yourself into even more danger! One day you'll have children too and then hopefully you'll understand where we're coming from."

Georgina puckered her lips in annoyance yet her eyes softened. She leaned against the banister, gazing down at her parents. "You know I'm going to join anyway, don't you?"

"We know." Matthew answered with a dejected sigh, "But you see Georgina, the thing is -"

The Earl never actually got to finish his sentence for at that precise moment, Edward trundled downstairs straight past Georgina, dressed in his casual clothes and shrugging into his jacket. Matthew struggled to keep the anger off his face.

"Excuse me but just where do you think you're going?" Mary asked her son sternly, both of them now completely oblivious to their daughter who still stood at the top of the stairs, gaping at the pair of them in disbelief.

"To the pub." Edward answered firmly as Joseph quietly slipped into the foyer. "After tonight I think I deserve a drink or two don't you?" He didn't wait for his parents to reply, he just marched past them, not even throwing his father a second glance on his way out of the door.

"I'll keep an eye on him!" Joseph volunteered quickly, grabbing his own coat and barrelling after his brother.

Once the door had slammed shut, Mary turned back to the stairs only to discover that Georgina too, had gone.

* * *

><p><em><strong>February 15th 1941<strong>_

_**12:13am**_

"Who does he think he is anyway?" Edward groaned, slamming his third pint on the bar with such a force, beer sloshed over his hand. "Did you see him? Did you see him tonight?"

Joseph nodded; tentatively pushing the glass away from his brother's flailing hands. "Yes."

"He kept giving me these – these - looks like he's disappointed in me. But he doesn't know a damned thing," Edward mumbled into his glass, "If he did, he'd shut up and leave me alone."

"Papa loves you Eddie." Joseph stated in worry as he watched his brother take a rather large gulp.

Edward released a snort of hilarity, "Don't be so stupid!" He tugged his lips into a smirk and pinched his brother's cheek, "You're his favourite! You're everyone's favourite you are! Everyone loves Joey!"

Joseph patiently brushed Edward's hand away before saying calmly, "That's not true and you know it."

"All I know is," Edward started loudly, "I try and do something right for once – I try and protect my family – and it's still not enough for his Lordship." He giggled briefly before his face hardened, "So why should I? Why should I protect him?"

Joseph felt his stomach lurch. "What do you mean Eddie?" He asked gently, "Protect him from what?"

Edward turned to his brother, lips parted as though he were about to answer. Then he just shook his head. He might be drunk and his mind might be clouded but he wasn't that stupid. "Nothing." He whispered, "In fact Joe – just – just forget I said anything all right?"

Deciding it best not to argue with his brother in his current state of mind, Joseph just nodded, "All right. But I think you've had enough, it's time to get you back home."

"Good because I feel sick!" Edward replied, breaking into a fit of chuckles.

Joseph groaned as he lifted his brother away from the bar. Mercifully, the pub door opened and who should walk in, but Tommy.

"Tommy!" Edward exclaimed brightly, turning to Joseph and practically shouting into his ear, "Look Joey, it's Tommy!"

"Ow! I know!" Joseph snapped, struggling to support his brother's weight.

"What's going on here?" Tommy asked, cautiously stepping towards them with a puzzled smile frozen on his face.

"Edward's just had a bit too much to drink." Joseph explained with an eye roll, "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming back till later?"

"I finished early and after the night I've had, I needed some time to unwind before I reported back to base." Tommy muttered, leaning against the bar. He nodded towards Edward who stumbled away from the bar, still giggling, "Do you want me to help get him back home?"

"Please." Joseph sighed in relief.

Together they wrapped Edward's arms around each of their necks and staggered out of the pub. Once outside, they struggled to support his frame as they traced the familiar route home, the pathway lit by only a few flickering lamps.

"So was Aunt Mary's dinner party really that bad?" Tommy asked in amusement, their feet crunching on scattered leaves in the path.

"Oh, it's – it's just Edward's own personal demons." Joseph panted, still struggling to keep Edward upright. "Ever since the HMS Worthington thing, he's been acting so different."

"Don't talk about Worthington." Edward slurred. Joseph exchanged a look with Tommy.

"It's all right Edward, we're just going to get you home and into bed all right." Tommy said with reassurance.

Edward mumbled something in response but they didn't question it. After a few more minutes of walking, they heard a soft rustle from behind them. Joseph glanced over his shoulder, realizing with a swift jolt, that they weren't alone. A man with a long overcoat and bowler hat was walking a few paces behind them, keeping a good distance away but looking suspicious all the same. Joseph just turned back and kept on walking. But of course trying to support Edward's heavy frame slowed them down a great deal, they were practically dragging him along the path.

The crunching footsteps grew louder behind them. With his heart thumping madly, Joseph sidled a glimpse out of the corner of his eye as the shady figure passed them. He paused briefly to tip his hat at the trio in recognition, but all the while, keeping his face well hidden from the light. Joseph frowned slightly as the stranger shuffled steadily ahead of them, his shape and silhouette seeming oddly familiar to the young heir. But it was so damned dark he couldn't see properly. The stranger slowly turned back to look at the trio, Joseph immediately snapped his eyes away.

* * *

><p>"Oh thank heaven!" Mary breathed in utter relief as Joseph and Tommy stumbled into the Abbey, still supporting Edward. Her expression of relief however, melted into one of dismay and indignation as she drank in the form of her second son. "Oh, no, no I don't believe it!" She glared at Joseph in an accusing fashion, "You call this looking after him? Look at the state he's in Joseph he can barely stand!"<p>

"He's only had three pints of bitter!" Joseph protested, a look of guilt beginning to creep upon the young Pilot's face. "I didn't realize he was such a lightweight." Tommy bit his lip to stop himself from laughing.

Several of the officers mulling around the foyer cast amused yet judging looks in their direction, mumbling amongst themselves. Mary fired back her own icy glower, masking her humiliation. "Haven't you all got work to do?" She barked. Immediately they scattered off into their assigned rooms.

"What's the matter?" Matthew emerged from the music room, blanching in surprise as the naval officers bustled past him without making eye-contact. He exchanged a puzzled look with his wife, "Mary?"

Mary crossed her arms across his chest and said as calmly as possible, "Take a good look at your son Matthew."

Matthew reluctantly let his eyes fall across Edward who was hanging onto Tommy's neck for dear life. He released a weary sigh, immediately rescuing his kind nephew. "Thank you for helping get him back home safely. I'll take it from here." Matthew took Edward's arm, "Come on young man, let's get you to bed."

"Ah, look it's my Daddy!" Edward chuckled, "My Daddy who's come to save me! Are you here to save me?"

"Come on Edward." Matthew said in a measured voice, his expression remaining completely stoic while his wife huffed in anger.

Tommy awkwardly hung back as Matthew and Joseph hauled Edward upstairs. Mary threw him a grateful smile. "Yes thank you Tommy."

"It was no problem Aunt Mary. I'm just glad I was there."

"Why were you there?" Mary asked curiously. Then seeing the weary look crossing her nephew's face, she held her hand up in a fluster. "No, sorry. I'm not supposed to pry."

Tommy laughed, "Don't worry. Just make sure Eddie's safe tonight. Make sure he drinks a lot of water." Mary gave him a curt nod and rushed upstairs after her family. Tommy removed his coat and cap, walking into the library where his team were clustered around a table, littered with papers.

"Ah Agent Branson." Agent Blackwell exclaimed, rushing to Tommy's side, "How was it?"

Tommy heaved a sigh, dropping his coat and hat onto a nearby chair then moving towards the crackling fire. "Fanshawe wasn't even there." He said bitterly.

"You're joking!" Agent Scott whined as Blackwell groaned in frustration.

"Nope." Tommy hung his head in shame, "I can't believe it." He smacked the mantelpiece in anger, "Three months of work in prep for tonight and the fascist bastard wasn't even there!"

"Please tell me the evening wasn't a total waste Branson." Blackwell begged, his tired face ridden with anxiety.

Tommy gave him an apologetic shrug, "I have nothing Agent Blackwell. I'm sorry. I was so focused on finally getting that list of traitors in his group... I didn't know he wasn't going to turn up."

"Where do you think he was?" Scott asked.

"I don't know." Tommy replied after a beat. "Who knows with that man."

"Oh well." Blackwell sunk into an armchair, rubbing his forehead with his hand, "Never mind. We'll just have to re-group and plan something else tomorrow."

"Agent Blackwell we really need that list." Scott said in a calm voice pressed with urgency, "We can't continue our work if we don't have it."

Agent Blackwell released a rattling breath. "I know."

* * *

><p>"How could you let him get this bad?" Matthew huffed as they dropped Edward onto his bed. He started to remove his shoes while Joseph lifted his legs off the floor. Mary plumped up the pillows and placed them neatly behind her son's head.<p>

"I did try to stop him but he wasn't having any of it." Joseph grumbled, tucking the covers around his brother, "You know what Edward's like Papa. When he's got his mind set on something, that's it."

They watched Edward sleeping for a few seconds, his nose twitching a little in his uncomfortable slumber.

"You can go to sleep if you want to Mama." Joseph said tenderly, "Papa and I can look after Edward."

"Actually I think I'll go check on the girls and Benji." Mary said quietly, rising from the bed. "Emily made such a fuss after all the excitement tonight; it took her hours to settle. I'm sure you can take care of this baby?" She asked her husband with a wry smile as she nodded towards Edward.

Matthew gave her a light chuckle, "I can handle this baby. I'll stay up with him tonight in case..."

Mary nodded in understanding, kissing Joseph's cheek goodnight before slipping out of the room. Once she had shut the door behind her, Matthew turned to his eldest. "Did Edward say anything to you?" He asked in a soft voice, "About – anything?"

"For God's sake Papa if you mean HMS Worthington just ask me." Joseph replied in irritation.

"Well, I know alcohol loosens the tongue." Matthew said in a fluster, "Especially that one," He added with a nod towards his sleeping son. "And I know it's been on his mind lately. I just wish I could help him, but he won't let me in. Why do you think that is?"

Joseph chewed on his lip hesitantly, wondering whether he should repeat Edward's drunken words. Unfortunately, his expression couldn't change quick enough to hide his indecision.

"Joe, if he did say something to you?" Matthew asked, his voice dripping with austerity.

"Look Papa – I want to tell you but – the thing is, I promised him I wouldn't say anything!" Joseph replied sheepishly.

"How old are you? Twelve?" Matthew snapped, "You might be doing more harm than good if you keep it from me!"

Joseph nodded sombrely. "You're right Papa, I'm sorry." With an apologetic glance at his younger brother, Joseph explained everything Edward had told him.

"Protecting me?" Matthew whispered, his throat fading dry. "From what?"

Before Joseph could shake his head, or answer there was a loud groan from the bed. With the swiftest movement Matthew grabbed the wash bowl from the bedside table and held it quick enough for Edward to retch into.

Joseph shook his head as he poured his brother a glass of water from the jug. "Here, drink this." He forced the glass onto Edward's lips and tilted the liquid down his throat, "It'll help you sleep better."

Still coughing slightly, Edward sipped the water and then settled back down, his face dotted with beads of sweat. Matthew brushed a few damp strands out of his eyes before releasing a dejected sigh, "What am I going to do with him?"

"Maybe if you just sat him down and asked him outright -"

"I've already tried Joe, it doesn't work." Matthew interrupted curtly. "I've asked nicely, I've asked politely, there's – there's no other way I can ask! I'm sick of begging him for answers, it's time I did something about it myself! That's why I asked Colonel Redford to help me look into it."

Joseph gaped at his father in shock. "Come again?"

"Colonel Redford," Matthew repeated casually, "You met again tonight, my old comrade in arms, we go back years. You've seen him maybe once or twice as a child but then we lost in touch. Anyway, he's obviously very high up in the war office and if anyone can help, he can."

"Why him?" Joseph asked bluntly, "You've barely spoken in years! Why are you two best friends all of a sudden?"

"We're not!" Matthew defended hotly, "I need his help to find out what Edward's been hiding from us, that's all!"

"That sounds rather risky don't you think?" Joseph asked pointedly, "Poking and prodding around like that."

Matthew proudly straightened up, "There's nothing risky in protecting one's son." He said airily.

Joseph opened his mouth to contradict him but was interrupted by a soft moan.

"Get Tommy."

Both the Earl and the heir snapped their heads towards Edward who was twitching slightly in his sleep, muttering, "Get Tommy – Tommy can help Papa. Get Tommy to help Papa."

Exchanging a bewildered glance with his father, Joseph immediately lent towards his brother so their faces were inches apart. "What do you mean Eddie?" He breathed, shaking him slightly, "Tommy can help Papa with what? Tommy can help Papa with what Eddie?"

"Edward?" Matthew asked gently, leaning down, "What's Tommy got to help me with?"

Finally he uttered the words his father had been desperately waiting to hear from him. "They're going to turn Papa." Edward in all his delirium then rested both his hands on his brother's face, staring blearily into his eyes and whispered, "Don't let that happen." Then he passed out into a deep slumber, his breathing growing heavy.

"Jesus." Joseph mumbled, stepping away from the bed and running a hand through his hair in frustration, "Papa – what the hell was that?"

"Just calm down." Matthew ordered in a tight voice.

"Calm dow – are you joking?" Joseph hissed, his face ridden with panic, "Did you not just hear that? They're going to try and turn you, first of all who's they and what do they want with you? And what has this got to do with Tommy?"

"Joey stop!" Matthew scolded, throwing a hasty glimpse at the door, "Just stop panicking. We need to sleep on this and then ask Edward what he means by – all this in the morning."

"How can you be so calm?" Joseph asked incredulously.

Matthew just stared at him. "Who says I'm calm?"

Joseph quirked his brow, "So," He started in a challenging fashion, "Do you still think we need your old friend Redford now?"

Matthew didn't answer him.

"Not a word to your mother." He said in a voice dripping with caution, "Let's not burden her with this yet."

Joseph didn't say anything. He just nodded diligently in response.

* * *

><p>Mary slipped into Emily's nursery to find Georgina seated in the rocking chair with Emily tucked snugly into her arms. She rocked back and forth in a steady rhythm while singing a soft lullaby, a warm smile etched upon her beautiful face. Georgina glanced up as her mother entered the room and the smile melted away.<p>

"Rebecca said Emily was crying and she couldn't find you." Georgina said coolly, "So she asked me to look in on her. She just needed to be cuddled that's all."

"Oh, I see." Mary said in an even voice. "Rebecca asked you to look in on Emily?"

Georgina gave her a nonchalant shrug, "It's hard for her Mama. We can't pretend to be indifferent to her feelings." She flicked her head up to stare blankly at her mother, "It's somewhat of a habit in this family. Indifference."

Mary released a long held sigh. "Darling, I'm so sorry about tonight." She whispered, sitting down on the window-seat next to her daughter. "I know how much effort you put into that cake." She tugged her lips into a fond smile, "And it was a lovely cake. Very delicious." Georgina flashed her brief smile in return.

Mary reached out to caress her daughter's dark curls, "And I know you were trying to show us how much you've grown up. I should've been more sensitive to that, I'm sorry Georgie. I suppose it's hard for your father and I to see you grow up and venture into this war by yourself. You're our little girl, always have been, always will be!" She said fiercely.

"I'm not a little girl now Mama." Georgina said wearily, "I grew up a long time ago, I'm sorry it took you and Papa so long to realize it. Now I have a chance, a real chance to do something spontaneous but useful because of this war. And I'm going to seize it with both hands!"

Mary licked her lips nervously, "Georgina. It's just – sometimes - you remind me of your Aunt Sybil. With your modern ways and your desire to change, your yearning to help others. And becoming a female Pilot -"

Georgina frowned in confusion, "Is that so bad Mama?"

Mary fiddled with the ribbons on her nightgown. "It's not bad no, but it's not exactly – conventional."

Georgina rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to her baby sister. "For heaven's sake Mama. You really need to stop living in the past and just accept that this war is going to change everything and everyone."

Mary's eyes widened at her daughter's warning. "I – I don't understand what you mean. I'm not living in the past! I know full well what's going on!"

Georgina just nodded, "Make sure you do. Because it isn't going to get any easier. Only harder."

* * *

><p><strong><em>4:30am<em>**

Miles away in Dublin Ireland, Lady Sybil Branson lay wide awake, listening to the bustling traffic outside and the soft snuffles of her husband as he slept. She made sure he was fast asleep before crawling swiftly out of bed, slipping into her dressing gown and padding quietly out of their bedroom. She loved Tom dearly but she also loved her children. More than anything. And being separated from her only son, ignorant of his welfare and health was something she could not bear, even if he was under the watchful eye of her sister and brother-in-law. And after hearing Sibohan's latest news tonight, the worry just plagued her into a state of insomnia and sent her into a whirlwind of paranoia. No, she just couldn't take any more of it. She needed help.

Sybil scampered towards her hall table where she kept her stash of stationary, notepaper and envelopes. Heading the letter to her mother, she paused wondering how she could begin to ask for their help without telling them the whole truth. Sybil found herself gazing at the picture of Tommy and Siobhan on the table, taken at Siobhan's eighteenth birthday party at Downton – before their lives were shattered completely. Tommy's arm was draped over his sister's protectively while they beamed at the camera, raising a glass of champagne. Sybil couldn't stop the heavy weight compressing against her heart as she drank in the happy smile radiating from her son's beautiful face. It took all the strength she had built up over the past two years to stop herself from breaking down.

Oh, Tommy. How could she let him go?

She clasped the picture tightly in her hands. Her reminder that this was once a happy home that she helped build. All of that was gone the second her only son slammed the door on them. Yet a thin smile graced the woman's lips as she lightly traced Tommy's figure with her finger. "It's all right darling." Sybil whispered with a fierce determination, the kind only a mother can have. "I'm not giving up on you." Her finger lingered over her daughter's figure, "Neither of you. I promise you that." With a newfound determination igniting a tiny flicker of hope within her chest, she finally began to write the letter that could guarantee her daughter's safety.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	47. Confessions of a Son

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone, sorry for the delay in updating but this chapter took me ages to write and edit but I think I finally got it right. Anyway, enough delaying - this is the moment I think you've all been waiting for. Not everything is revealed but enough is explained, ;)

So read it and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 47 - Confessions of a Son<strong>

_**February 15th 1941**_

"Don't worry about me; you just take care of yourself." Matthew ordered his eldest son as he saw him off at the station.

"Papa, you can't pretend last night didn't happen!" Joseph said in thinly veiled irritation. He glanced around him to make sure he was out of earshot. All around him soldiers, Pilots and sailors were trudging up and down the platform, bidding farewell to their loved ones or hovering nervously beside the train. Each one, lost in their own hell.

"I just – don't want anything to happen to you." Joseph said in a quiet voice, glaring at the floor. "I don't know what Edward meant but – if you can try and coax an answer out of him -"

"I don't want to rush it." Matthew said gently. The train coughed out a stream of smoke as the shrill whistle blew, signalling their departure. "That's you, good luck son." He said softly as he pulled his eldest into an embrace.

Joseph practically clung to him like a child, wondering if he should be the one saying those words.

* * *

><p>Edward Crawley trudged downstairs with his head throbbing steadily. Nevertheless, he had at least managed to make himself look presentable.<p>

"Well, if it isn't the drunken wanderer." Rebecca quipped as their paths crossed half-way up the stairs.

"Oh get lost." Edward huffed, moving to push past her. The last thing he needed right now was her in his ear.

"Clarissa telephoned earlier. She asked after you." Rebecca called out, her voice ringing clearly through the grand foyer.

Edward stopped on the last stair. He whipped around to face her in utter disbelief. "Clarissa? Why, what did she want?"

"She just wanted to know if you were all right." Rebecca said in an even voice, playing with the sleeves of her cardigan and avoiding all eye contact with him. "Apparently you seemed quite distracted yesterday. She said you weren't behaving like yourself."

"What does she know?" Edward scoffed, "She doesn't know me. At all." He turned his back on his sister and stormed off past the throng of muttering officers, throwing sharp looks to anyone who dared judge him. He knew he'd receive enough of that as soon as his parents laid eyes on him.

"Morning." Edward mumbled as he slipped into the dining room and dropped into a chair without looking at anyone.

"Actually it's two o'clock in the afternoon." Matthew said in a measured voice. "You just missed luncheon."

Edward cast a bleary eye at the breakfast bar. Sure enough all the dishes had been cleared away. Only Cutler stood guard beside it, sidling sympathetic glimpses at him. And only his parents still sat at the table. Wonderful.

Edward merely shrugged in response yet he reached for a piece of bread and started picking away at it. "I'm not that hungry anyway."

"No I don't expect you would be after last night's spectacle." Mary replied coolly, sipping her water with casual ease and avoiding all cautioning looks that Matthew fired in her direction.

"Mama don't." Edward warned, a tired edge to his tone.

"Don't what!" Mary snapped, all composure shattering.

Cutler cleared his throat uncomfortably, "If you would excuse me m'lord." He stuttered, backing out of the dining room, "I think I should check on – the kitchen." He scurried away, leaving the Earl and Countess to deal with their child.

"All right Edward, cards on the table right now." Mary ordered, her eyes glittering dangerously. "What's going on with you?"

"There's nothing going on with me!" Edward protested.

"No?" Matthew re-joined before he could stop himself. He lent across the table and hissed, "Then how come your brother and I were up half the night making sure you weren't choking on your own vomit?"

Edward tore his eyes away, his cheeks flushing furiously. "What are you trying to say?" He asked through gritted teeth.

Mary shuffled uncomfortably in her seat before dropping her tone to one of compassion laced with worry. "Edward if this is all about what happened – on the HMS Worthington – some kind of – of..."

Both Edward and Matthew stared at her expectantly as she struggled to find the right word.

"Coping mechanism." She finished finally. "Then it's all right. Just as long as you tell us about it so we can help you."

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm fine?" Edward replied, his voice vibrating with suppressed anger.

"You can tell us until you're blue in the face; it's what you do that says otherwise!" Mary said with a tone of finality.

Edward released a rattling breath, determined not to snap. "Just leave it alone Mama."

Mary rounded on Matthew, her dark eyes blazing with anger as she begged him to back her up. He dithered helplessly, caught in a web of indecision. He still hadn't relayed the actual events of Edward's drunken mumblings to Mary lest he worry her even more. And he didn't want to push Edward further over the line, not now he knew he was involved in – whatever was going on.

"Edward." He tried placidly. "Please will you try and see it from our point of view?"

"No!" Edward retorted, forcing Matthew's eyes to flutter shut in weary anger. "I've had it up to the neck with all of you!"

"Then leave!"

A stunned silence flooded the dining room, save only for the light ticking of the steady clock. Mary gaped at her husband, fearful of the anger she saw brimming in those cerulean eyes which had now turned into chips of hard ice.

Matthew however, held his gaze. The words had fired from Matthew's mouth before he had the chance to stop them. Yet a brash thought quickly started spinning a new web in the Earl's mind. And if he planned it right, it might actually work.

Edward swallowed, his hands gripping the tablecloth, completely thrown. "What?" All traces of his arrogant, self-assured demeanour had vanished to be replaced with a look of trepidation and shock as he stared at his father.

Matthew slowly slapped his napkin on the table, taking deep calming breaths as he calmly managed to choke out the words he needed to say to his son. "You heard me Edward. If you really hate it in this house, if you really hate this family, if we're really such bad parents, then leave. You know where the door is. What's stopping you?"

"Matth -" Mary began in a timid tone but he immediately threw his hand up to silence her.

Edward's eyes sidled from his father to his mother, still reeling from the aggression his father had shot his way. The young Crawley felt his heart beating erratically, whether with anxiety or anger, which, he couldn't tell.

"You really want me to go?" Edward challenged, his voice a mere whisper.

"I'm giving you an ultimatum." Matthew said evenly in the hopes that his sudden, brash plan would miraculously work. "Either you stay and tell us what's going on. Or you leave and never come back."

Those words reverberated around the room, smacking Edward full on in the face.

But he didn't give an answer. He didn't say a word. He just gave his father... a look. His face streaked with anger, betrayal, and disgust but above all... relief. Edward carefully scraped his chair back and stalked out of the dining room, fully aware of the two pairs of eyes that were burning onto the back of his head.

As soon as he had left, Mary laid into Matthew. "What on earth was that?" She almost shrieked. "Are you mad? Have you learned nothing from Tom?"

"I didn't mean it." Matthew said in a hushed tone, glancing at the door and back to his wife. "But threatening to throw him out of the house is the only way we can force an explanation out of him."

"Can you hear yourself?" Mary responded, her voice dripping with sheer disbelief, "This is Edward we're talking about. Edward. Matthew, he takes these things literally!"

"Oh of course he doesn't!" Matthew said with a wave of dismissal. He downed the rest of his wine before rising from the table. Mary still stared at him with incredulity. Matthew caught her watching him and merely smiled in reassurance, "Darling please don't worry. By the end of today Edward will have told us everything we needed to know about HMS Worthington and then we can move forward and put this whole – debacle behind us."

He tried to kiss her cheek but she turned away. "Oh Matthew," She scoffed, her tone sharp and piercing, "You don't believe that any more than I do."

Matthew opened his mouth to retort but Mary turned away, wishing to dwell on the recent event on her own. So he simply cleared his throat and retreated into the foyer, nodding at Tommy as he passed him. Then as an afterthought, he changed course and scurried after him.

"Tommy!"

The young Branson stopped abruptly and turned towards his uncle. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to thank you again for helping Edward get home last night." Matthew said with sincerity. "It really was kind of you."

"It was nothing, really." Tommy said firmly. "I just wish I could help him more. That's all."

Matthew licked his lips, flicking his eyes towards the dining room where Mary breezed out of, pointedly ignoring him. He released a dejected sigh. "Well Tommy... that's the thing. You can help him, all of us, actually."

Tommy's lips quirked up in a confused yet happy smile, "Tell me what I can do."

* * *

><p>Edward paced around his bedroom for what seemed like hours, just writhing in complete turmoil. How the hell did his life get so complicated? His father had practically thrown him out of the house – unless he co-operated and told the truth. He leaned against his wardrobe. Maybe he should just tell them everything, unburden himself. It would be so much easier than keeping this weight dragged around his neck, pulling him down to the depths of despair and heartache every time he fought with his father. Why should he have to carry this burden alone?<p>

Because it was the only selfless thing he could do for his family. As long as he kept his mouth shut, they were safe.

A soft knock at the door jolted the young Crawley out of his reverie. "Come in."

The door creaked open and in shuffled Tommy, bearing a weary smile. "I heard what happened between you and Uncle Matthew." He said cautiously.

Edward scoffed, turning away from his cousin to face the window. "Did he send you to check up on me – Agent Branson?"

Tommy just laughed, "He didn't send me to come up no. He asked me."

Edward shrugged, "Same difference." He mumbled darkly.

The smile slipped off Tommy's face. He dug his hands into his pockets, staring at the floor as he said firmly, "Eddie, you don't know how lucky you are. You know, I look at you and Uncle Matthew sometimes... and I see myself and my Pa. Arguing over the smallest thing, believing in different causes but for the right reasons."

"You have different opinions, there's nothing wrong with that." Edward said thinly.

"Yeah and look what happened there." Tommy whispered. Edward didn't say anything. "I can't remember the last time my father and I had a proper sit down and chatted over something that wasn't political. If we did, it wasn't long before it'd turn into an argument."

"I know what you mean." Edward said in a bland voice, thinking back to his own volatile relationship with his father.

"There are good times in there somewhere." Tommy said with a forced smile, flicking his eyes towards his cousin and addressing him directly, "I just – need to look past my anger to see them."

Edward closed his eyes in a moment of despair before saying hotly, "I know what they want me to do but I just can't do it!"

"Maybe instead of shrugging them off, you can tell them that." Tommy suggested simply, "Then – you'd be opening up to them."

Edward didn't reply, just sunk into the nearest chair to contemplate that thought.

* * *

><p>Chink, clink, chink, clink.<p>

"How's Emily been today?" Isobel asked in bright voice.

Mary swallowed her wine and smiled, "Oh she's wonderful! She's smiling all the time now, I walked into the nursery to open the drapes and there she was, wide awake and laughing!"

Matthew chuckled for the first time in days. Then his eyes locked together with his son's who tore his gaze away and the smile vanished.

Clink, chink, clink, chink.

"Have you heard the news?" Georgina asked tentatively, "The British divison in North Africa have been weakened by the transfer of some troops to Greece."

"Do we know anyone?" Mary asked.

Georgina shrugged, "I'm - I'm not sure yet." She took a deep breath, shaking salt onto her fish. "We usually don't find out until the last minute."

There was a very uncomfortable silence filled only by the chink of cutlery and clink of glasses.

After the ladies had left the dining room, Tommy politely excused himself, giving Edward a pointed look as he slipped away. Edward sidled a nervous glance at his father.

Now it was just the two of them.

Edward clenched his hand into a tight fist, feeling his father's intense gaze burning onto him. He wanted to run. He wanted to run right out of the room, right out of the house, right out of Downton... but he couldn't.

Finally he turned to face his father, a dubious look leaking across his face as they just stood across the table from each other, waiting for one of them to break the silence.

Matthew decided to volunteer.

"I see you're still here." He said coolly.

"I am." Edward replied firmly, looking his father directly in the eye. "And I know you think that I'm hiding something." It was time. Maybe he couldn't tell him the whole truth but he could at least take Tommy's advice and be honest. "And the truth is you're right."

Matthew gaped at him in relief mingled with shock. "What?" He breathed.

"You really needn't look so shocked." Edward chided, taking a long gulp of water, "You and Mama have been going on and on at me about how much you've known something was up - so now you know. I've just confirmed it."

"So something did happen on that ship?" Matthew asked in a hush.

Edward gave him a stiff nod. "Yep."

Matthew continued to gawp at him, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. "Well, for God's sake what happened?"

"That's just it," Edward said in a diligent tone, "I can't tell you."

Matthew's eyes flashed dangerously, "Edward -!"

"Only because I'm trying to protect you." Edward interjected in reassurance, "Please Papa, you have to trust me when I say that - we're all safe as long as I keep my mouth shut."

"No, I'm sorry that's not good enough." Matthew said angrily, walking around the table to get to his son only to have him retreat back.

"Papa, please!" He practically begged, "You have to trust me! I know you want to help me, I know you want to get some answers but you have to believe me when I say - I just can't tell you. And if you really want to help me, if you're really on my side -"

"Of course I am!"

"Then just leave it!" Edward said with such a force it prompted Matthew to blanch. "I mean it Papa. Leave it."

Edward turned to exit the dining room and was just about to reach the door when his father halted him.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" Matthew asked carefully, his eyes narrowing.

Edward looked back at him and shook his head. "Not really no. Why?"

"No reason." Matthew said after a beat. "Go on, go to bed."

* * *

><p><em><strong>February 24th 1941<strong>_

Colonel Redford sat at his overlarge desk just fiddling with the pencils in the small pot in front of him. A swift knock at the door interrupted his troubling thoughts.

"Enter." He called in a bland voice. The handle turned, the door creaked open and in stepped Jude Fanshawe.

"Mr Fanshawe!" Colonel Redford yelped, practically leaping out of his seat and darting around his desk to shake the man's hand. "I didn't know you were coming by!"

"It's a flying visit." Fanshawe said coolly, sauntering around the office like a panther as Colonel Redford fidgeted helplessly in the centre of the room.

"How have you been?" Colonel Redford asked cautiously.

Fanshawe threw him a nonchalant shrug. "You know... I've had better days."

Colonel Redford didn't say anything, just nodded like a puppet. He found his feet shuffling back a few millimetres as Fanshawe ran his finger along the mahogany desk. "It's quite a place you've got here Redford." He said in a measured voice. "Cosy."

"What can I say? The war office pays me well!" Colonel Redford quipped yet small beads of sweat were starting to trickle down the side of his temple.

Fanshawe cast an emphatic glance around the room, releasing a small scoff. "Just the war office?" He asked, his tone tinged with sarcasm.

"Are you hungry?" Colonel Redford asked quickly, throwing a hasty glimpse at the clock, "We could catch a late lunch at The Ivy -"

"I've just come from there but thank you." Fanshawe interrupted sharply, "Anyway I didn't come here to... eat." He flicked his eyes towards Redford who swallowed over the lump wedged in his throat.

"Oh? Then – then what brings you up to Whitehall?" Colonel Redford trying and failing miserably to conceal the alarm laced in his voice.

"Oh, you know." Fanshawe slithered towards the Colonel, "A bit of this. A bit of that." They were inches apart now, Redford was sure Fanshawe could smell his panic.

Colonel Redford tried to back away but his feet were rooted to the floor, paralyzed with fear. Fanshawe frowned slightly, as if he had forgotten something. "Oh... and one more thing."

With incredible speed Fanshawe grabbed Colonel Redford's head and slammed him onto the table, papers and objects rattled onto the floor as Redford screamed in pain.

"Edward Crawley is still alive!" Fanshawe hissed into his ear, Redford opened his mouth to argue but Fanshawe shut him up. "No, I don't want to hear any excuses. How many months has it been now? Three? Four? That's four months of waiting in utter hell, not knowing if that spoiled little git has screwed things up for us!"

"Please!"

"Why shouldn't I just kill you now and be done with it?" Fanshawe murmured in a low, dangerous tone as his hand slid towards Redford's neckline. "One quick snap," His fingers tightened around his neck, "Finished."

"Please – the Crawley -boy - hasn't - said - anything!" Colonel Redford gasped, his face turning puce.

"How would you know?" Fanshawe barked, pushing Redford's head further onto the table, causing the man to cry out in agony.

"Because – Lord Grantham - has asked – for my help." Redford choked , spit dribbling from his lips in pain.

Fanshawe released Redford and backed away, his face twisted into curiosity while Redford staggered against his desk, coughing and spluttering.

"What the hell do you mean Grantham's asked for your help?" Fanshawe asked sharply. "No, sod that – start from the beginning! I want to know where your bloody head is!"

Colonel Redford took a deep, scraping breath and still rubbing his throat said gruffly, "Lord Grantham is an old friend of mine. He's a bit simple at times but he's not a stupid man. That night after Edward Crawley escaped from HMS Worthington, he returned home, practically half-dead. Grantham turned up here not long after and – berated me for not keeping him in the loop." Colonel Redford tried not to let the guilt flicker in his eyes for too long lest Fanshawe saw it. "Edward was suffering from hypothermia and hadn't woken up yet. I didn't know if he'd even pull through and if he did and told everything to his parents then we'd be the first ones to go! So naturally I panicked – and called Bruce - ."

"Oh Jesus Christ." Fanshawe muttered, sinking into a plush armchair by the window and smacking his head against his palm in frustration. "Why get that fool involved?"

"Because we need him! I told him that we couldn't risk being caught, that we needed to find a way to shut them all up before Edward comes round!" Redford said quickly. "That way if he did survive the hypothermia and was thinking about telling his parents or his father, then we'd have sent him a message, to...rethink his decision."

"By killing off all the people on the ship who could've given us away?" Fanshawe responded slowly.

"Yes."

"But there is still a – morsel of a chance that Crawley knows I'm behind all of this?" Fanshawe asked as he casually examined the fingernails on his left hand, his voice dripping with ice.

Colonel Redford fidgeted with the belt of his uniform, "Perhaps, but look – I've been thinking -"

"It's not your place to think you brainless idiot!" Fanshawe yelled, leaping up from the chair in a rage. "Do you have any idea how much of a mess this has caused?" He threw up his index finger, "One thing! I asked you to do one thing – get rid of Crawley and then we'd be free to make our move onto the Grantham's! But no, you couldn't even do that right! Nothing is ever plain sailing with you, everything has to be such a Goddamn spectacle!"

"Jude -"

"Now not only do we have dead Naval Officers floating around God only knows where!" Fanshawe laughed off his wrath. "But we've also got Grantham trailing after my backside! As if the man didn't need any more reasons to come after me! Brilliant!" He clapped his hands in a sarcastic manner, "Well done!"

"Edward hasn't said anything about you to Lord Grantham." Colonel Redford said quietly. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. Lord Grantham has asked for my help to look into the HMS Worthington mystery and I deliberately keep leading him to dead ends and feeding him false information."

"Grantham came to you?" Fanshawe scoffed, "Maybe he is stupid!"

"But very smart." Colonel Redford retorted, "Which is why I think it best we don't eliminate Edward Crawley."

"Of course we have to eliminate Edward Crawley." Fanshawe countered in thinly controlled patience, "Because if we don't, then our plan won't work! Come on, we've been over this a hundred times!"

"There is another way." Colonel Redford said in a hushed voice, "That we can get to the Granthams without killing Edward Crawley."

"How?" Fanshawe asked, doing nothing to mask the scepticism dripping off his tongue. "Sit Lord Grantham down with a gun to his head?"

"In a manner of speaking." Colonel Redford said evenly.

Fanshawe looked up in surprise. "You mean you want to blackmail him? How?"

Colonel Redford broke his gaze, feeling a small weight of panic settle on his shoulders. "I'm not entirely sure yet – but," He added hastily as Fanshawe released an angry groan, "I can find out! I've been inside Downton Abbey, I was there for dinner last week. During the last war when we were fighting in the trenches together, Lord Grantham used to confide in me. It's taken time to break that bond but I'm confident I can re-build it again in due course."

"You're sure?" Fanshawe asked through narrowed eyes, "Because I don't want this to turn into another one of your cock ups that I have to clean up."

Colonel Redford gave him a dry smile. "Trust me. If there's one thing I know for sure it's this. The bond between soldiers, when you're fighting side by side, is always there. It never goes away."

Fanshawe scrutinized him for a few seconds before saying roughly, "I hope to God you're right Redford. For your own sake."

"I am." Colonel Redford replied with little conviction laced in his voice.

"And may I ask - how exactly are you planning on getting to the Granthams?" Fanshawe asked, almost in amusement. "What could they possibly be hiding? They're the cleanest family in the aristocracy. They stink of soap!"

"All families have their secrets Jude." Colonel Redford said steadily. "We just have to find theirs."

"You." Fanshawe corrected with a cold smirk, "You are going to find their – dirty little secret and then bring it to me. If not." He took a step forward so their faces were inches apart. "I'm coming after you."

Jude Fanshawe deftly moved past a trembling Colonel Redford and headed towards the door, pausing briefly to say, "You have six months. Tick tock, Colonel Redford. Tick tock."

And with those words he bolted out of the door, leaving Colonel Redford to drown in the despair of the mess he'd just got himself – and his friend into.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	48. The Engagement

**Author's Note:**Hey everyone I'm back! First off, a huge apology for not updating sooner but things have been really hectic with Uni and stuff. But hopefully I'm back on track. Thanks as well for all the reviews and support, glad to see you're still sticking with the story!

So this chapter is a different chapter in the sense that it's now merging with Sybil/Tom family because they're part of this story too and everyone's connected, but this is setting up to all that. It's also a setup for the HMS Worthington reveal in the next chapter! (You'll understand more once you've read it) Mary's also become slightly manipulative but it's all for good intentions.

So enjoy and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 48 – The Engagement<strong>

_**February 27th 1941**_

Evening was creeping upon the silent grounds of Downton Abbey when Cora, Dowager Countess of Grantham breezed into the foyer.

"Ah Mama." Mary greeted in surprise, elegantly scurrying down the rest of the stairs to kiss her mother's cheek. "I've just put Emily to sleep I'm afraid. I didn't know we were expecting you for dinner."

"You're not, I came by because I have something very important..." Cora glanced around the bustling foyer with apprehension. "Is there a place among all this ruckus where we can talk in private?" She asked in polite frustration.

Eyeing her mother curiously, Mary motioned for her to follow, "Of course. We'll use Matthew's study, no one will disturb us there."

Once settled comfortably in the Earl's study, Cora turned to her daughter with a look of such excitement. "I've got such good news!" She whispered, beaming from ear to ear.

"Well go on Mama, your excitement is contagious!" Mary responded, unable to suppress a grin.

"I received this letter," Cora extracted a small square envelope from the folds of her fur coat and brandished it at Mary. "It's from Sybil. She writes that Siobhan is engaged to be married soon," Mary released a gasp of delight. "And apparently, her fiancé doesn't want to settle in Ireland. So, Sybil was wondering whether we could put them up for a few months until they find their feet."

Mary's smile melted into a look of curiosity. "He doesn't want to settle in Ireland? Why? Surely Ireland is much safer than here?"

"Maybe they want to make a fresh start, is that so wrong?" Cora asked gently.

Mary quirked her brow sceptically. "A newly-married couple settling here? During a war? Yes, Mama everything about that just screams wrong."

"But nothing's going on in the countryside," Cora said in irritation, "They'll be safe enough here. And perhaps Siobhan wants to escape Ireland, did that ever cross your mind? Besides, they'll be opportunities here for Siobhan, she could train as a nurse, just like her mother."

Mary released a small sigh. "I suppose. But what of this fiancé? He might have to join up if he becomes a British citizen you know."

"I'm sure there are ways around that." Cora mumbled, glancing at the letter again, "Anyway Sybil writes that the wedding won't be in Dublin but in - Galway."

Mary gave her a nonchalant shrug, "I have absolutely no idea where that is."

"Somewhere in Ireland obviously." Cora replied absently, "And they'll be here on honeymoon."

"I didn't even know Siobhan was walking out with anyone!" Mary said with frustration, "All those letters, all those telephone calls and Sybil never mentioned a thing!"

"Maybe Sybil didn't want to get our hopes up." Cora said brusquely. "Even now I doubt we'll receive an invite to the wedding with things as chaotic as they are. Anyway this young man can't be that bad if Sybil gave them her blessing -"

"Yes, but did Sybil write anything about him in there Mama?" Mary interrupted, gesturing to the letter with impatience. "Like, if he's good enough for our Siobhan?"

Cora checked the letter, "Well, all Sybil says about him – is that... ah, 'Siobhan's fiancé is a pleasant fellow and..."' Her brow creased slightly but her tone remained light, '"We're not to judge him too harshly when we meet him."'

"Heavens, that doesn't sound very promising!" Mary retorted, straightening up in indignation. "So what's the catch? Perhaps he's some poor lost soul Sybil took pity on!"

Cora tilted her head towards her daughter in a chastising manner, "Mary, must you always jump to conclusions?"

Mary gave her mother a stern look but didn't rise to it. "What does the father of the bride say?" She asked coolly, "I take it he approves at least or else there wouldn't be a wedding!"

"All Sybil says about Tom is that he's missing us and bestows his congratulations regarding Emily." Cora said with a melancholy smile.

"Well he knows what to do." Mary responded tersely. Cora stroked the letter with her thumb but she didn't say anything.

"Oh, very well." Mary said in a clipped voice after a moment's pause. "Siobhan and her husband can come and stay here, of course they can."

"Oh no!" Cora said quickly, her voice tinged with sadness, "Let them stay with me at the Dower House. It does get so lonely over there, just me and Peter. It'll be nice to have more people rattling around. Besides, this place might be quite intimidating for the poor boy."

Mary nodded in agreement, "I can't argue with you there. Things are quite tense enough without hosting two newlyweds on their honeymoon." She tried not to let the disapproval ripple through her face but failed.

"I take it Eddie and Matthew still haven't made up?" Cora asked with tenderness.

"Define 'made up.'" Mary said evenly, playing with the sleeves of her cardigan. "You see - Matthew has told Edward that he'd only stop harassing him about the HMS Worthington, if, he stays away from the Royal Navy."

Cora heaved an exasperated sigh, "I can only guess what Eddie's reaction would've been."

Mary mirrored her mother's expression, "Naturally he flew off the handle and – mailed off his application to the Royal Navy." She swallowed, "We're still awaiting their reply."

"Mary, Edward's going to be seventeen in a few weeks, isn't it time you loosened your reigns?" Cora said wearily.

Mary said nothing though she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes flickering towards Sybil's letter clutched loosely in her mother's hand.

Cora's concerned frown deepened as she peered closely at her daughter. "Mary?" She questioned sharply, "Is there more to this story than you're letting on?"

"Oh don't be so ridiculous Mama, of course there isn't!" Mary snapped, shooting up from her seat and gliding towards the window, her heart hammering. What was she supposed to say? That the tension between Matthew and Edward was so intense that even Benjamin had picked up on the vibe and didn't want to be around them anymore? That they were all treading on eggshells around the house because they were terrified that one day, Edward might sneak off in the middle of the night and they'd never see or hear from him again? Why burden her mother with those problems now? Especially with such good news.

"There is isn't there?" Cora pressed, her blue eyes widening in surprise.

"Mama -"

"No, don't you dare Mama me!" Cora snapped, surprising the both of them. Rarely does she raise her voice to her daughter. "You might be Countess now, but I am still your mother first and foremost while I live and breathe. So, you're not leaving this room until you tell me everything!"

Mary collected herself together and slowly turned around to face her mother, a crack appearing in her smile of perfection. "Oh Mama, I don't even know where to begin."

* * *

><p>Edward Crawley adjusted his dinner jacket and sauntered down the grand staircase, managing to keep his usual, 'life's wonderful' smirk on his face, purely for the benefit of the officers they were sharing their home with, who heard every snipe and gripe the Earl and his son made towards each other. As he reached the bottom, he met his mother and grandmother emerging from his father's study, each of them exchanging a knowing glance.<p>

"Hello Edward darling." Cora greeted with a warm smile as she tugged on her gloves, "I'm just leaving now but," She sidled a glimpse at Mary before continuing, "Your Mama tells me that you've applied for the Navy?"

"I did." Edward replied steadily, holding her gaze.

"I see." Cora shuffled awkwardly before asking, "And have you received a reply from them?"

Edward shook his head, a wry smile leaking across his face as he adjusted his cuffs. "Not yet."

"Now, Eddie darling - I know you mean well but don't you think it's too soon to be jumping back on a ship?" Cora asked in a gentle voice laced with panic. "Your Grandpapa didn't want this for you."

"Well he also didn't want his eldest grandson and heir to dodge bullets up in the sky every day but there you have it." Edward responded casually, clearly enjoying the discomfort of the two ladies. "Look, I want to do my bit for the war Grandmama. Everyone else is. Georgina's joined the family flying club and when Rebecca's not sulking around, moaning about her life, even she's doing something with those evacuee - children. And you, even you're doing your bit by taking in that mute child."

"Edward!" Mary chided with indignation, shooting her mother an apologetic look.

"No, no he's right." Cora said airily, "He must do his part." She pulled her coat further around her and gave her daughter a pointed look. "Remember what we discussed. I'll call by tomorrow."

Edward watched her leave with a small frown, he turned to his mother. "What was all that about?"

Mary's lips parted as if she were going to say something important. Then deciding against it, she quickly shook her head and pressed on a smile. "Siobhan. She's getting married in a few weeks."

Edward released a low whistle. "Well that's a surprise. So who's the poor lad? Do we know him?"

"Apparently not. I don't even know what to send them."

Edward chuckled loudly, "Maybe Georgina can bake them a wedding cake!"

Mary rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the grin from creeping upon her face.

"Does Tommy know?" Edward asked quietly, keeping his eye on Tommy who was standing near the library reading from a file. "Is he even invited to the wedding?"

"No." Mary said shortly, a small thought spinning quickly through her mind, growing larger with every passing second. "But – he will be."

* * *

><p>"Engaged?" Tommy collapsed back onto the sofa in shock. "Engaged?" He repeated, as he gaped at his aunt, his mind spinning into a whirlwind of confusion.<p>

"That's what your mother writes, yes." Mary said tentatively. She decided it best that she tackle the subject with Tommy alone, so after dinner she had sought him out in the library – politely yet firmly ordered the rest of his colleagues to leave and then relayed the news of his sister.

"I – I don - to whom?" Tommy sputtered, a little hurt, "I mean – I know I haven't kept in touch with her for a few years but... I just didn't think she'd...not at a time like this!"

"The world still keeps on turning Tommy." Mary said gently, "Whether we want it to or not."

Tommy released a long held sigh, "I know." He ran his palms over his knees in agitation before asking with a drip of hope, "Did Ma say anymore about – the wedding?"

Mary felt her stomach lurch. Oh, this was exactly what she was afraid of! "I think your mother said something about them having the wedding in... is it Galloway?"

"Galway." Tommy corrected automatically, still gazing at the floor. "Most of my father's extended family still live there. My grandfather left his pub to my uncle and – we always have events there, you know, weddings and funerals and such. It'll be comfortable. I'm sure Siobhan will be – very happy." His voice cracked slightly with the obvious fact that he was going to miss one of, if not, the most important days of his sister's life. That combined with the fondness for his home country, forced his heart to compress with the weight of nostalgia as he thought back to those days at his paternal family's home. He longed for the fresh breeze, the breathtaking greenery, the strong smell of Guinness flowing around the room, the sound of jolly folk music filling his ears as people danced and laughed around him, feeling merry and happy, without a single care in the world –

"Tommy?"

Mary's concerned voice snapped him back to the present. He blinked wearily and nodded, "It's all right. I'm fine. I know I'm not invited to the wedding. I don't expect to be."

Mary heard the pain disguised behind those words and naturally was not fooled. "Oh, Tommy this whole mess is all quite ridiculous!" She chided, "You don't have to keep away from them you know? They're your family too, Siobhan is your sister as well! You have just as much right to be at her wedding as the rest of them, more so in fact. I know she'd want you there!"

"You don't understand," Tommy said quickly, grasping onto the fact that his aunt now had that fierce look of determination in her eye and was in full pursuit of pushing it. "I can't go back home, not now. It's not just Pa!" He added as Mary opened her mouth, "It's work as well. I have a job to do."

"I'm sure you're owed some leave." Mary said sternly, "You can't keep hiding behind that one Tommy. This is your sister and you're going. We'll pay for the travel and necessary accommodation though I doubt your family will let you stay in an inn."

"You don't know them." He said bitterly. "They think the same as Pa – look Aunt Mary, I know you mean well and I thank you and love you for it but please, it's really not a good idea."

Mary sighed, "All right, I suppose I should be honest." She sat down next to him and carefully glanced behind her shoulder to check they were definitely alone. "There's more. Apparently, Siobhan's fiancé doesn't want to settle in Ireland and your mother thinks it best if they travel here and... live."

"No." Tommy said instantly, "That's an even worse idea! What kind of a man is this?"

Mary leaned closer and practically hissed, "All the more reason for you to find out. You can chaperone them back to England."

Tommy squirmed hesitantly, "I – I don't know..."

"Do you really want your sister alone with a man whom none of us have met and know nothing about?" Mary asked, truly despising herself for manipulating her nephew yet knowing it was the right thing to do.

Tommy shook his head, his hesitancy dissolving quickly. "No I don't. I definitely don't. In fact, the more I hear about this, the more I'm starting to feel that something is terribly wrong." He ran a hand through his hair, "Siobhan – she's - she's not stupid but she has allowed herself to get used by men in the past."

Mary tore her eyes away in shame. "I remember." She whispered.

Tommy gripped the sides of the chair in anger. "All right. I'll go to the wedding."

Mary nodded slowly, "It's the right thing to do Tommy. And – I know this is a big ask but - I want you to take Edward with you."

Tommy blanched, sure he had mistaken what he had heard. "Excuse me? You want me to take Edward to Siobhan's wedding? In Galway? In Ireland? Now?"

"I think this trip will do him some good." Mary said in an earnest panic, "I've noticed how close you two have become lately, perhaps he'll open up to you." When Tommy still dithered she pressed seriously, "Come on Tommy, you know if he stays around here much longer one of those two will crack, it's only a matter of time." Tommy looked up in understanding, knowing the full extent of what she meant. "You can't deny that some time away from Downton will do him some good? And honestly, I'd rather him be with you than on his own, living on the streets somewhere or – or lying under a rubble!"

"But are you sure he can up and leave? I thought he's awaiting a reply from the Navy?" Tommy asked with a frown.

"I don't care. The only ship I feel comfortable with him being on is the ferry." Mary said with a tone of finality as if this settled the matter.

Tommy released a low breath, his brow raised. "All right, if you're sure. What about Uncle Matthew?"

"Leave Uncle Matthew to me." Mary said lightly, more to herself than to her nephew.

* * *

><p><em><strong>March 10th 1941<strong>_

Lady Sybil Branson had spent the last hour and a half just staring out of the window, the letter clutched in her hand; a lone tear meandered down her cheek as she released a despondent sigh. Her head jerked slightly in recognition at the sound of her husband barrelling through the front door.

"Jesus it's cold out there!" He muttered, "Sybil?"

"In here." She called back, her voice bland and devoid of any real emotion. She wiped her eye and sucked in a sharp breath, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to do. Tom quietly removed his hat and coat as he stepped into the living room. She could sense he wanted to kiss her, to hold her but she wasn't ready for all that yet. All their loving marital moments had died the day Tommy left.

"Karl has really messed up my day." Tom started in a tentative voice. "He forgot to hand in the paperwork last night so I have to re-do it all from scratch!"

"Oh? That's a shame." Sybil responded in a tone which clearly told the both of them that she really couldn't care less about Karl or anyone else for that matter. She deliberately unfolded the letter so he could see it.

"Who's that from?" Tom asked in mild curiosity as he hung up his coat and hat.

But Sybil didn't answer. She just remained silent.

"Sybbie?"

Sybil closed her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. "It's from Mama. She sends her congratulations and love." She turned to give her husband a weak smile, "For Siobhan's wedding."

Tom felt his lips tug into a small smile in return. "That's nice of her." He said softly. Then deciding it brave to ask, "Did you tell her about Sean?"

"Not in so many words." Sybil said curtly, purposely refusing to mention that she's practically pushing their daughter and her fiancé to England. "I haven't mentioned who he is because, well, God knows who's intercepted this letter...so; I've said that he's not to be judged too harshly. That's all the information I think necessary, without giving him away. As far as they're concerned, Sean is just a young man who swept Siobhan off her feet and that's all there is to it."

Tom released a small sigh of relief, "I know your mother won't judge." Sybil almost visibly winced at the emphasis Tom put on 'your mother.'

"She's also sent us a - fair amount of money." Sybil pressed on, though every word she spoke felt like spitting out razor blades. "To help out with the wedding you know, the dress, flowers, food - things like that..." She trailed off, willing herself not to cry. Oh how she wished they could all be here!

Tom sucked in a sharp breath. "I'm grateful to her, honestly Sybil I am. But I can pay for my only daughter's wedding."

"No one's saying you can't." Sybil responded in a steady voice, "But my mother just wants to show her love, that's all."

"Of course." Tom said humbly. "I know how much yo - Siobhan – wants them all at the wedding."

Sybil sniffed, "Yes but that's not to be the case is it?"

"Come on Sybbie we've been over this." Tom replied with a tone of finality.

Sybil sidled a glance at Tom as he kicked off his shoes and reclined in his armchair, flipping open the newspaper. Then, she decided her moment.

"Tom – I want to go home." Although she wasn't looking at him, the startled rustle of the paper told her he had stiffened in shock. She sighed and continued quietly, "Things don't seem to be getting any better do they?"

"It's not your concern Sybbie." Tom said in a tight voice. "This – here, this is your home."

Sybil spun around to gape at him. "I beg your pardon? Not my concern? Not my concern?"

"You know what I mean!" Tom responded hastily, "It's too dangerous!"

"I don't care!" Sybil snapped, "I feel so utterly, utterly useless sitting here doing nothing!" She shook her head slowly in disbelief. "You know Tom – I thought you'd understand. I genuinely thought you'd be on my side. But all you keep saying is – wait, it'll all become right in the end! Open your eyes my darling, things are far from right!"

"Sybil -"

"I stood by you when your country was suffering! All I ask is that you stand by me!"

"So what are you saying?" Tom asked, his tone dripping in trepidation.

Sybil stood up, shaking. She knelt beside her husband and for the first time in two years, slipped her hand into his. "I'm saying, I want to go back to England. We both could. I can go back to nursing, just like I did before."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Tom responded, keeping the sarcasm to a minimum, "Sit back and take in the scenery?"

"You could work in the Motor Transport Corps." Sybil said patiently, "You know how engines work and it'll be very beneficial."

Tom examined the nails on his left fingers, saying in a strained voice, "Right, so while you're playing Florence Nightinggale, you want me to become a mechanic again. Whatever happened to going forward and not back?"

"Things are different now, there's a war on, my country is suffering!" Sybil shot out pointedly. "In a few months, our little girl will be married and starting a life on her own, away from us!"

"She's only moving to Wicklow, not the other side of the world!" Tom soothed in mild confusion, oblivious to the guilt creeping upon his wife's face. "And she must..." His face grew pained, "Sybbie, you know why she must go."

"I know so, please Tom, I beg you...let's return together." Sybil whispered.

Tom merely shook his head sadly, "I don't think it's such a good idea to go back. Not after everything that's happened."

"Can't we put it all behind us?" Sybil asked, her face twisted in desperation. "Please Tom, for the sake of our family."

"I'm trying to!"

"Then try harder!" She implored, her eyes shimmering with years of unshed tears. "Let Siobhan's wedding act as a bridge between us. Please."

Tom saw the pain gleaming in his wife's eyes and he knew, he knew how much she was craving to see Tommy again. But the small dose of pride which tended to sway over him every time, won out yet again.

"No." He whispered, his eyes filled with regret and sorrow, "Because Sybil, no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I want to – I just can't forgive – that boy."

Sybil flinched as though he had physically slapped her. He might not have touched her but his mere refusal to call their son by his name had brandished a permanent mark on her soul. Over the past two and a half years she had hauled herself out of bed and braved every strike of pain that Tommy's absence had left her with. And over the years, she had found it in her loving heart to forgive her husband and stay by his side, no matter how much her heart grieved for her son. But now...she felt her affection had been taken for granted. No, she definitely could not tell Tom that Siobhan would be going to England. At first she had felt guilty in concealing her plan from him. Now, she felt a small slice of satisfaction from it. Coldly, she tugged her hand out of his and stood up, scrunching the letter in her fist.

"Fine." She said, her tone dripping with ice. "If that's how you really feel. Then we'll talk about it no more." She turned on her heel and stalked off.

Tom's heart melted at the sight of her, "Sybbie -!"

"You can sleep on the sofa tonight!" She interrupted cuttingly. "And don't think of coming near me for a while!"

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	49. The Wedding

**Author's Note:**Okay, I think I should say a massive thank you to all of you for your unbelievable patience. The fact that I hadn't updated in a while bugged me to no end but basically, life and everything else got in the way - plus I really wanted to get this chapter right. So, it's split into two parts because it's really long. It's mainly Tommy/Edward bonding to setup the big reveal which yes - is at the end.

Also, I should point out that I do love Branson but the way he treats his son is because of issues which are yet to be explored so Sybil/Branson shippers go easy on him (and me). And there's a lot more development for Mary/Matthew and their role in HMS Worthington which we'll get to the bottom of. And Siobhan's husband is another mystery which we'll get to the bottom of. Eventually. I've got an assignment due in at the end of the month so I don't know when I'll update next but I'll try and get it done ASAP because I'm really excited about this story. It's gonna be a blast... interpret that how you will.

Okay enough talking, enjoy this chapter and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 49 –The Wedding<strong>

_**April 2nd 1941**_

"Now are you sure you've got everything?" Mary asked for the hundredth time that evening.

Edward rolled his eyes, "Yes Mama, I'm sure. We're only going for one night remember."

Mary wrung her hands, "Yes I know, but don't forget, you'll be coming back with extra passengers." She mumbled.

"Give Sybil and Siobhan our love." Cora said sadly as she kissed her grandsons, her eyes growing small and wistful.

Tommy placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "Don't worry Grandmama, you'll see Siobhan soon. We're bringing her back remember?" Cora smiled thinly but didn't reply.

Matthew slammed the boot of the car and tapped it twice, signalling they were all set to go. "I think that's everything." He said pointedly, "You boys haven't forgotten anything have you?"

"No Papa." Edward answered curtly.

"Uncle Matthew don't worry, I'll make sure Edward stays out of trouble." Tommy joked, thinking it best to clear the air while they were about to leave rather than come back home to yet more tension.

Matthew forced a tight smile and a nod, "That's hard to believe but I'm sure you'll at least try." He watched his son saying goodbye to his sisters before pulling Tommy to one side. "Listen Tommy, there's something I need you to do for me." Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper, "Should anything happen to me, this piece of paper is the answer to everything. Your Aunt Mary will know what it means so don't worry."

Tommy blanched in shock as Matthew pressed the paper into his hand, "Uncle Matthew – wh – why on earth would you think something would - would happen to you?" He stammered.

"Just remember you have it." Matthew said quickly, glancing at his mother who was watching them curiously, "And remember that you'll only ever need to use it if I'm in trouble, do not read that piece of paper unless you absolutely have to. Understand?"

Tommy nodded automatically, his hand stuffing the piece of paper in his pocket with his mind still reeling. He turned towards Edward and called out gruffly, "Ed we should hit the road!"

Matthew backed off, extending a civil hand to his son who accepted graciously, even managing a stiff smile.

Isobel rolled her eyes and sidled up to her son, whispering furiously in his ear, "Are you going to continue treating me like an invalid or do I have to make a big show of everything to find out what's going on in this house?"

Matthew shot her a warning look, "Don't get involved Mother."

"You must think me a lot slower than I am." Isobel said airily, "You think I don't know when there's trouble brewing? This whole house is ridden with tenterhooks!"

"Mother!" Matthew hissed, plastering on a smile and waving off his son and nephew. They watched the car crawl through the gates. Once they had driven off he turned back to his mother with a gentle frown, "Mother you have to trust me. I know what I'm doing." He turned to exchange a knowing look with his wife.

This had better work.

* * *

><p>The boat cut steadily through the Irish Sea, shuddering against the fierce winds. Edward Crawley lay irritably against the wall of his bunk and tried to summon all his concentration into reading his book, but the weather outside would not permit him to even lie down let alone relax.<p>

"Oh look, this is ridiculous!" He snapped finally. Tommy turned away from the window to give his cousin a mildly amused look. "How much longer for God's sake?"

Tommy checked his watch, gripping the side of his bunk for support. "Not long now. We should be there in about half an hour."

"Thank the Lord." Edward mumbled sourly, trying to turn his attention back to his book. "Why does your country have to be so far away?

Tommy gazed at him, "Are you feeling ill?"

"Just a little."

"But I thought you wanted to be in the Navy?"

Edward shrugged, "Yes, so?"

"So isn't this what you're going to have to live with day in and day out?" Tommy replied with a pointed glance around their tiny cabin. "You're not going to make much of a sailor if you're seasick all the time!"

"I'll have you know that Admiral Nelson, hero of the Battle of Trafalgar also suffered from seasickness!" Edward said defiantly. His eyes grew small and weary, "Besides, I'm not seasick."

Tommy glanced at the floor and nodded, "I think I understand. Does this bring back memories?"

Edward tensed up sharply. "I'd rather not talk about it." He said in a tight voice.

"Fine." Tommy said gently and turned his attention back to the window. He wasn't going to force Edward to talk about it now. There'd be plenty of time to worry about that later; they still had the rest of the trip after all.

"So, are you looking forward to the wedding then?" Edward asked, casting a sly glimpse towards his cousin who glared back at him. "I would be if it was my sister getting married and I'd never met the poor chap willing to take her on."

Tommy pursed his lips into a thin, angry line. "I bet you anything he's the one who stopped Siobhan from writing to me about this."

"Do you really think so?" Edward asked with intrigue.

"Either him or my Pa. Or both." Tommy answered bitterly. "Siobhan and I used to be really close. There's absolutely no way she'd get engaged and not tell me herself! It must be – his doing, this lad of hers! He flashes her one smile and now she's dancing to his tune! I bet you that's how it happened!"

Edward fiddled with the pages of his book saying casually, "That's a rather brave assumption don't you think Tommy?"

"Well how else could it have happened?" Tommy fired back.

"Maybe they love each other." Edward remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Tommy snorted, "Of course." He closed his eyes and tried to block out the muffled sound of the waves licking the side of the boat. Then he released a hollow chuckle, "Pa must be thrilled with him."

Edward narrowed his eyes towards his cousin, "What makes you say that?"

Tommy gave him a knowing look in response. "I can already tell. I suppose he's just the sort of son my father always wanted."

An ironic smirk spread across Edward's lips but he didn't say a word.

* * *

><p>The rain had calmed down once they'd reached Dublin. After travelling for hours from Dublin to Galway, all they wanted to do was sleep.<p>

"This is us." Tommy said through a stifled yawn as the taxi pulled up outside 'The Baited Hook Inn.'

"And Aunt Sybil's meeting us here yes?" Edward asked with hesitation, eyeing the pub warily.

Tommy swallowed nervously. "That's what she told your mother."

With exhaustion, they climbed out of the taxi and hauled their luggage out of the car. Once Edward had paid the driver he turned to follow Tommy inside Inn, only to find his cousin just standing outside, staring at the door.

"What's wrong?" Edward asked cautiously, sidling up to his cousin. There was still a small drizzle of rain dripping onto their faces and the fierce wind still hadn't died down. The warm, amber glow flickering in the tiny window of the Inn looked more than inviting right now.

"I don't know." Tommy choked, "I haven't seen my mother in years. I don't know what to say."

"You don't know what to say to your mother?" Edward repeated slowly.

Tommy glared at the floor. "I don't even know if she wants to see me, she might blame me. And that's something I can't take."

"How'd you work that one out?"

"It's my fault! It's my fault we've been apart. It's my fault we weren't invited to the wedding. It's all my fault!"

Edward fired him an incredulous look, "That's the most self-pitying rubbish I've ever heard! Although I'm sure my father could give you a run for his money." He mumbled sourly. "You didn't leave home voluntarily; your father threw you out! And we don't know the whole story regarding Siobhan so stop jumping to conclusions and let's just go inside before we both die of pneumonia!"

He barged into the Inn, Tommy following close behind him. Immediately they were enveloped in a rich, warm ambience. The sound of violins was strumming lightly in the background and everyone clustered around the small tables looked cheerful and relaxed. Edward scanned the people in the room, a small smile spreading across his face as he spotted his favourite Aunt seated in the far corner of the pub.

"Aunt Sybil!" He waved, meandering through the crowd. Sybil leapt off her seat and pulled Edward into a hug.

"Edward! Oh my goodness! Look how much you've grown!" Sybil exclaimed in utter delight, holding her nephew out at arm's length so she could properly take a good look at him. "The last time I saw you, you were a boy – and now you're practically a man!"

"Stop you're making me blush." Edward quipped, "And as much as I'd love to make this all about me, I brought someone else along whom I'm sure you'll be very happy to meet." He stood aside to let a fidgeting Tommy, stumble forward into view.

Sybil released an inaudible gasp and very slowly, drifted towards her son. With trembling hands she cupped his face, tears swelling behind both their eyes. Sybil held her breath, drinking in the sight of her boy, hardly daring to believe her luck. Finally her face crumpled in joy as she wrapped her arms around him and held him in a tight embrace.

"Tommy. Oh, Tommy it's really you." She breathed, lavishing her son's face with kisses. "My precious darling. You're really here."

"It's really me Ma." Tommy replied softly, "I'm here for my sister's wedding." He pulled away, his eyes growing serious, "Now I take it Pa doesn't know I'm coming."

Sybil wiped her eyes, shaking her head. "No he doesn't. But don't worry darling, I'm sure once he sees you, he'll be just as happy as I am!" She punctuated her sentence with a shaking smile. Tommy exchanged a small glance with Edward. Sybil didn't seem to notice. "And I'm very, very happy! I can't explain just how much!" She giggled again, throwing her arms around her son and holding onto him for dear life.

Tommy masked his look of worry with a false smile of security, yet his eyes travelled to Edward in concern.

* * *

><p>"All right Edward, take care darling. Give Sybil my love. Goodnight." Mary hung up the phone and breathed a sigh of relief.<p>

"They made it safely then."

Mary whipped around in surprise at the sound of Agent Blackwell's voice. He held up his hands in apology. "I'm sorry I couldn't help overhearing. I just wanted to know if Tommy was all right. He's not obliged to check in with me on his leave, but even so, I worry about him as if he were my own son."

Mary smiled warmly, "Oh, yes Tommy's fine. He's been reunited with his mother."

"Ah." Agent Blackwell's smile faltered, "And has he been reunited with his father yet?"

Mary shook her head, "No, but he might be. Tomorrow at the wedding."

Agent Blackwell shuffled slightly, "I know how things are between them. I know how things – ended."

Mary tried to shrug, "I'm sure they won't risk ruining Siobhan's wedding. They won't want to fight."

Agent Blackwell laughed, "Well Lady Grantham, clearly you've never been to a proper Irish wedding!"

He bade Mary goodnight and strode back into the library still chuckling, nodding in respect at Matthew who passed him.

"What was all that about?" Matthew asked in mild amusement.

Mary raised her brow, "Blackwell was only asking after Tommy. I just received a call from Edward, they've arrived safely."

A small smile spread through Matthew's lips, "Good. So do you think he'll finally confess everything to Tommy?"

Mary nodded with fierce determination, "I do. If what you say is true – and we are connected to the HMS Worthin-"

"No not we, me." Matthew corrected firmly, "I am the one they might be after not you -"

"No Matthew!" Mary interrupted hotly, lowering her voice as people scurried past them. "If this is about what I think it is about than I am involved too! We are in this together whether you like it or not! Where you go, I go, when you're in trouble, so am I. This affects all of us, our children included! So it's not just about you!"

Matthew heaved a sigh of exasperation, "My darling I'm just trying to protect you!"

Mary threw her hands up like a shield, "Well don't! Just stop it Matthew! I'm growing quite sick of all this chivalry!" She scolded in an icy tone, "We need to face this together, that way we'll be stronger. For our children!"

Matthew didn't even have the strength to argue with her on that one. He closed his eyes and nodded, "I know we do." He grabbed her arm and led her into his study, shutting the door firmly so they could be completely alone.

"Do you really think it could be them? Are they really coming back for us?" Mary asked, her voice tinged with worry, "Did Edward mention anything else to you? Other than Tommy?"

Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head, still Mary pressed on. "He must've said something – a name we'd recognize, just so we can confirm if those – people – were aboard the HMS Worthington. Then we'd know if this was all orchestrated so Edward would be on that ship-"

"For the thousandth time – no!" Matthew replied in irritation, his hand reaching for his scotch bottle. He popped the lid off the decanter and poured himself a small measure, downing the glass in one.

"Well you won't find any answers in there." Mary said crisply, making no attempts to hide her judging glares fired his way.

Matthew gave her a dry smile and then poured himself another glass. "I just want you to know I'm placing a lot of faith in this little plan of yours Mary." He said in a warning voice laced with mockery.

Mary merely smirked as she reclined back on his couch. "I'm glad to hear it. Once Edward and Tommy come back to Downton, this will all be sorted."

"No it won't." Matthew said with controlled patience, resisting the urge to tip the whole bottle down his throat. "Because we still have to deal with – them - all over again!"

Mary closed her eyes, nodding slowly, "I know and it'll be painful. But at least we'll be ready for them this time."

Matthew gripped his glass with such a force, his knuckles grew white, a tight knot of anxiety twisted in the pit of his stomach as his eyes travelled to the small clock on the mantelpiece, chiming midnight.

"Mary there's something else I should tell you. I gave Tommy a clue regarding the key." He said in a tense voice. "I pray we won't need it but it'll be useful in case something should happen to me – to us." He choked out the last couple of words as if they were razor blades.

"I see." Mary breathed, her fingers entwining into her necklace. She pressed her palm to her chest as she forced herself to take deep, calming breaths. Don't think about it, she scolded herself. You'll only cause yourself more grief

Finally Matthew flicked his eyes towards his wife, they shone full of hope and love. "Do you remember where it is?"

"Of course I do Matthew." Mary replied without looking at him, successfully concealing the fear ridden in her voice. "I was the one who hid it."

* * *

><p><strong><em>April 3rd 1941<em>**

Tommy Branson nervously shuffled into the church and peeped around the stone pillar to catch a glimpse of his family lining the front rows. His hand immediately jumped to adjust the tie on his suit, his palms clammy and cold. He couldn't seem to stop fidgeting much to Edward's chagrin.

"I still don't understand why we have to sit at the back!" Tommy hissed, as they ducked into their seats, surreptitiously keeping their faces hidden with the order of service. "We're family! I'm the brother of the bride for God's sake!"

Edward shook his head in exasperation, "Tommy, Aunt Sybil went over this with us last night," He said as patiently as he could. "We can't risk your father or anyone else from your family kicking off right before the ceremony! I don't know if you're aware of this, but you're not exactly their favourite person right now." He added, sarcasm sewn into his voice.

"I know that." Tommy said through clenched teeth.

"Right, so we stay, we watch the ceremony, we can even shed a tear or two then we say hello, goodbye – then we grab the bride and groom and leave all right?" Edward mumbled. "And somehow managing to avoid your father in the process."

"Well, Pa's not even here!" Tommy exclaimed indignantly, gesturing around the church. His eyes fell on his mother who stood at the front chatting to one of his aunts. "He's walking Siobhan down the aisle and I should be escorting my mother! Yet where am I? Sat at the back with you!"

"Oh that's charming. You're welcome." Edward responded sourly.

He was just about to snap another comment back when the church doors suddenly flung open and half the congregation twisted around in their seats in curiosity. Edward and Tommy's heads automatically snapped towards the door, their eyes lingering on a tall young man with broad features and a very masculine build, dressed smartly in his suit, stride confidently down the aisle to take his place at the front. Both Tommy and Edward watched, mouths slightly agape as the young man planted a hearty kiss on Sybil's cheek and started engaging in small talk with the rest of the family.

"That's him." Tommy said quietly. "That's Sean, my future brother-in-law." He continued to watch Sean with a look of pure resentment etched upon his face, "Look at him, he's only known them short of five minutes and he's already integrated himself in there!"

Edward sidled a sympathetic glance at his cousin, "Are you all right?"

"No." Tommy answered blandly.

"Look I know this is going to sound rich coming from me," Edward started, disbelief laced into his own voice at what he was about to say. "But – give him a chance. You hardly know him and don't forget we have to take him back home with us."

"I still don't see why." Tommy murmured, his eyes narrowing as he watched Sean place an arm around his mother, "What's his game? What's he playing at?"

"They've done quite well in decorating the place don't you think?" Edward asked in a swift attempt to distract his cousin. He gazed around the small yet comfortable church. Pink, white and yellow flowers adorned the aisles and the pillars with matching ribbons.

Tommy cast a brief glance around the church and gave him a shrug in response. He tensed up slightly as Sybil flowed up the aisle making pleasant conversation with the congregation. She reached their row, her eyes lighting up at the sight of them and almost made a beeline for her son but Tommy sadly shook his head, indicating with his eyes, warning her away. Sybil wilted, before giving him a nod in understanding and returning to her seat at near the altar.

"There's no need to get her in trouble." Tommy muttered, his eyes glazing over in fury as he watched his father's family, "I can still leave. She's stuck here with them."

Edward looked at Tommy, really looked at him. He never imagined how hard it must have been for both him and Siobhan to grow up on both sides of the track. They had spent their whole lives questioning whether or not they were Irish or English, a working family or nobility. That's why it created such a knot of tension when Tommy chose to support England instead of staying out of the war like his father wanted.

That's why Tommy was now sitting at the back of the church rather than at the front with the rest of his family.

An excited hush settled upon the church. Tommy could feel his insides churning unpleasantly with anticipation, fear, dread, some emotion he could not name. Several men scurried up the aisle in a nervous flurry, grasping Sean's shoulder in luck as they took their seats next to him. Tommy licked his lips anxiously, "It must nearly be time. I don't know if I can do this."

He made a hasty attempt to leave but before he could rise, Edward grabbed his shoulder in one swift movement and forced him back into place.

"Who's the one getting married?" Edward asked in an amused hush, "This is Siobhan's day, don't ruin it for her!"

"What if Pa sees us?" Tommy asked quietly, throwing a fearful glimpse at the church door.

"He won't! And if he does, so what?" Edward replied in thin irritation, "Just remember you're here for your sister. Now stop fidgeting you look drunk."

They waited for a few more minutes in uncomfortable silence. Then Tommy turned to Edward and said with sincerity, "She's my only sister. I should've been there for her and I wasn't. How do we know this isn't some man my father selected out of thin air?"

"I know what you're thinking and it is not your fault." Edward said as gently as he could. "I also know what it's like to have some – bloke hovering about your sister." He added bitterly, his thoughts driving unpleasantly back to Rebecca and Tim – and Emily. "But let me tell you from experience. No matter how much you protest against him, she won't listen to you."

"Maybe I should go and introduce myself." Tommy started, making another impulsive move to get up only to be forced back down by his cousin – again.

"Tommy don't!" Edward warned, "It'll be one of those disasters you can see happening but feel powerless to stop! Like Dunkirk." He added bluntly.

"This is nothing like Dunkirk!" Tommy snapped, prompting several heads in the front rows to turn around. "I'm trying to find out what kind of a man my sister is being forced into marrying!"

Edward flushed in embarrassment, "Just stop humiliating yourself!"

"We know nothing about him." Tommy said through gritted teeth, nodding his head towards Sean who had now taken to pacing nervously across the altar. They watched the priest rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder and mumble a few words of encouragement. "Except his name is Sean Riordan... that's it."

Edward's ears pricked up sharply at the name. He snatched up his order of service and scanned the front page. "Riordan." The name tumbled from his lips in a whisper, stirring up an uncomfortable emotion inside his chest.

"Are you all right?" Tommy asked in a measured voice, noticing his cousin's sudden apprehension.

"I'm fine." Edward answered, a little harshly than he intended to be.

Then the organ music fired up.

"Here we go." Edward muttered under his breath as they all rose to their feet.

First Tommy's little cousins, the ring bearer and two flower girls tripped down the aisle, staring fixedly at the floor despite the many coos they received. They were followed closely by a few more of Tommy's older girl cousins who pranced down the aisle in their frocks, preening at anyone who would bother to pay them any attention. Edward almost laughed out loud.

Finally Siobhan and Tom stepped over the lip of the door, together, bracing themselves for the walk ahead. Tom gave his daughter a wink before offering her is arm which she accepted with a warm and loving smile.

"Oh, look how miserable she looks, being dragged down the aisle to the gallows of marriage!" Edward quipped, his tone drenched with sarcasm.

Tommy swallowed, tilting his chin up in stubbornness. "Looks can be deceiving." He said evenly, his eyes flicking to Sean who stood rigidly at the top of the altar, fighting the urge to turn around. "You'd do well to remember that."

"Is that something M15 taught you?" Edward scoffed.

Tommy said nothing.

Siobhan's dress was of simple lace yet she carried it off magnificently as she flowed down the aisle with her father supporting her. As she passed them, both boys searched Siobhan's face for a trace of fear or regret, but even through the veil they could feel the happiness which radiated from her face. Tom seemed utterly overwhelmed with emotion, tears glistening in his eyes as he kissed his daughter goodbye and handed her to Sean. Tommy's heart almost clenched for him. Almost.

They all collapsed back into their seats where they remained for the rest of the ceremony. When the minister asked if anyone objected to their marriage, Edward kept his hand alert lest he need to pull Tommy back down. Luckily Tommy behaved although Edward could tell that he was itching to leap out of his seat and scream his many protestations.

For some reason, Edward could never picture his wedding. It wasn't necessarily something he ever thought about as he was much too young and wanted more out of his life. Yet as he watched his cousin and her fiancé reciting their vows to one and another, for some reason he felt a stab of longing in his chest and Clarissa Deveroe's pretty face soared unwillingly into the forefront of his mind. He pushed her face away from his thoughts, disgusted with himself. She was so vacant, why would he ever think about_ her_ as his bride? He could have _any_ girl for goodness sake!

In no time at all Siobhan and Sean were pronounced man and wife, Tommy and Edward applauded half-heartedly with the rest of the congregation. Edward raised his brow in amusement as he watched the bride and groom share a shy yet passionate kiss, "Well they've both stuck their heads in the noose, and it's too late to turn back now."

Tommy merely stared miserably at his sister, whispering, "What has she done?"

"She's married him Tommy, that's all!" Edward stated as the couple marched past them, arm in arm, beaming at each other, practically drunk with love. "And if he does turn out to be a psychopath well that still doesn't mean it's your fault."

Tommy scowled in response.

* * *

><p>After the ceremony everyone flocked back to the pub for the reception. This was what Tommy had been positively dreading from the moment they arrived in Ireland. The original plan was to wait until the bride and groom had finished and left for their 'honeymoon.' Edward and Tommy would then be waiting at the docks to collect them and take them back to Downton.<p>

Tommy however had other ideas.

"Tommy please don't go in there!" Edward pleaded through gritted teeth, almost giving up with the strain of holding his cousin back, "Look, I like a drama as much as the rest of you Irish people but now is not the time! Please, we have a war to get back to, isn't that enough drama for us all?"

They were standing right outside the Branson's family pub, Edward struggling (and failing) with all his might to stop Tommy from entering and making a scene.

"I need to sort this out with my father Edward!" Tommy growled, twisting himself free from his cousin's strong grip. "I need some sort of closure." He adjusted his suit and marched right into the pub.

Almost instantly the raucous music died down. The gasps of shock rippled through the small room. Tommy Branson's heart was thumping in fear and exhilaration but he kept his chin up, determined to stare them all down.

Sybil was first to reach her son, she threw her arms around him and whispered gleefully into his ear, "I'm so proud of you!" She pressed a kiss to his cheek, winked at him and then turned to face the crowd, her hand still resting on his arm. "For those of you that don't know," She announced in a loud and brave voice, "This is my son, Tommy."

Immediately the murmurs grew into a frenzied buzz as people threw curious glances towards Tommy, remembering news of his 'choice' to voluntarily support the war.

"Well, well if it isn't little Tommy!" A voice from the back quipped in hilarity.

Tommy twitched his lips into a weak smile and raised his hand, "Hello Uncle Seamus. Have you seen my Pa?"

Sybil's eyes grew wide, "Oh, Tommy my darling – listen about what -"

"What the hell is this?" Tom Branson weaved his way to the front of the crowd, his eyes glittering with fury. Tommy sucked in a sharp intake of breath at the sight of his father. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No." Tommy answered, trying to keep the anger leaking into his voice. Why must everything be so difficult with him? "I'm here for my sister's wedding Pa."

"Don't you Pa me!" Tom snapped. Edward saw Tommy visibly flinch. He could do nothing but stare in shock at the uncle he loved as though they were blood. Although Uncle Tom looked furious, Edward couldn't help but notice a small glimmer of – if he didn't know better – reprieve which shone in his eyes.

"Tom!" Sybil chided.

"You were told to stay away." Tom said in a warning tone, glaring at his wife who just stared him down.

"I invited him here Tom." Sybil interjected, her voice full of defiance. "He has every right to be here." She turned her gaze to her son and immediately her eyes softened as did her tone, "And Siobhan will think so too."

"They're not here yet; I want him gone before they arrive!" Tom said in a slightly panicked voice.

"Tom don't do this now." Sybil pleaded, her voice a mere hush. Edward narrowed his eyes suspiciously but didn't call his them out on it. Something very peculiar was going on here. Maybe there was more to his cousin's immigration than they cared to let on.

"I want to say hello to my sister and meet my new brother-in-law." Tommy said coolly.

Tom released a hollow chuckle of disbelief, "Over my dead body!"

Tommy took a challenging step forward, "Is that a request?"

"Don't push me kid!" Tom threatened, tensing his jaw in anger.

"Don't call me kid!" Tommy fired back.

"You're talking back to me now!"

"I'll do a lot more than just talk back!" Tommy yelled, his thick Dublin accent seeping through in his aggression, igniting a spark of jeers from the rowdy pub.

"Stop!" Sybil screamed as she watched the colour drain from her husband's face. She couldn't bear witnessing the two boys she loved most in the world, fighting with each other and hurling such hurtful words back and forth. Not her boys who had once loved each other so well. What had happened to them? Tommy looked so angry and full of hate.

Tom backed down. He knew he looked foolish squaring up to his son who was now exactly the same height as him. Tommy had been a sixteen year old boy when he left, now he was an eighteen year old man.

Edward cleared his throat awkwardly and tentatively squirmed between father and son. "Right, well as much as I'd love to stay and witness another father-son quarrel, I think I should probably intervene for everyone's sake. Tommy we're going outside for some air."

Much to the protestations of the onlookers, Edward hauled his cousin out of the pub and into the fresh country air.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Edward shouted as he watched Tommy storm away from him, his hands tucked behind his head in anger. "You do realize that you nearly attacked your father in front of your entire family?" Tommy said nothing though he was breathing like an enraged bull. "But you don't even seem to care!"

"Oh don't you start preaching to me!" Tommy scoffed, suddenly rounding on Edward and heading straight towards him, "I don't treat my father any better than you treat yours!"

Edward's mouth fell open.

"That's right." Tommy continued in a baiting tone, "And do you know what's even worse about your situation? _Your father actually wants to help you!"_

"Well I don't need his help!" Edward retorted, his cheeks flushing with rage, "I don't need anyone!"

Tommy clenched his hand into a fist, "Don't say that. You need people Ed, more than you care to let on. Ever since you came back from Egypt, ever since HMS Worthington, you've been drowning in your own despair. All your father wants to do is pull you out of it."

Edward narrowed his eyes at his cousin. Since when did he become Papa's biggest fan? "What do you know about it?"

"More than you think! And your father is a lot smarter than you or anyone gives him credit for!" Tommy hissed, clawing his hand into his pocket and extracting the tightly folded slip of paper Matthew had given him. He waved it in front of Edward's face, "You see this? This is how much your father cares about you and your family."

Edward eyed the paper suspiciously, "What is it?"

"The answer to everything." Tommy said quietly, trying to gain control of his ragged breathing. "He gave it to me before we left and told me to keep it safe, he told me to only open it if it were absolutely necessary." Edward raked a hand through his hair, struggling to process this news. Tommy watched him carefully before adding slowly, "Like if he were in some sort of trouble or should something happen to him."

Edward's head snapped up, all the colour flooding from his cheeks. "He – he said that to you?"

Tommy nodded.

"Have you read it?" Edward asked, trying and failing to look like he didn't care.

"Yes." Tommy answered bluntly, "Just like Uncle Matthew knew I would." At Edward's confused look he continued, "You see there's a reason why he gave this to me before he left and there's a reason why Aunt Mary sent you on this trip with me. It was all a well constructed plan to get you to talk – to me."

Edward scoffed though his eyes glazed over in panic, "You? Why would I want to talk to you?"

"Because I can help." Tommy replied firmly, "I'm also willing to bet that your father, your family and HMS Worthington are connected and this," He held up the slip of paper again, "Will give you the answer that you've been looking for."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Edward shot out, fighting to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"Edward, you've been driving yourself and everyone insane for months, when all you needed to do was just talk to your father, tell him what happened and all of this would be sorted!" Tommy responded, his voice accelerating in anger. "Because you know that it isn't just his life or your mother's at stake, it's yours and Joe's and Georgina's and Rebecca's and Benji's! Hell even Emil -"

"I know!" Edward interrupted, swallowing his anxiety. "That's why I kept it a secret. I thought if I didn't talk about it – if I shut it off and pretended that it never happened then I'd be protecting them." He flicked his eyes up to meet Tommy's. "But I never stopped worrying about what I heard and whether or not they'd actually go through with it."

Tommy could feel his heartbeat hasten. "Go through with what?"

Edward collapsed onto a nearby tree stump. He rested his palms on his knees and just stared at the floor in despair. Tommy crouched beside him, holding out the slip of paper.

"Eddie, if you tell me what happened on HMS Worthington, I'll show you this paper." He said gently. "You can't say that's not a fair deal."

Finally Edward Crawley gave a small nod, his eyes hollow and filled with turmoil. He cleared his throat and said in a bland voice, "There's a group of Nazi sympathizers that were aboard the HMS Worthington. They're trying to hunt down wealthy people, mainly aristocrats and doing whatever it takes to convert them onto their side."

Edward could feel the panic rising in his chest but he forced it back down. "I heard them mention our family as well as several others. I know names – a lot of names. I think they want something important from my father but I'm not sure what." His eyes darted to the slip of paper in Tommy's hand, "He has something that's of great value to them. I thought that by keeping him out of it, I was keeping him safe from them but...maybe you're right Tommy." He released a long held sigh, "Maybe my father has known about these people all along. Though how – I don't know. I'll have to ask him."

Tommy stood up very slowly, his eyes never leaving Edward's face. "Eddie," He choked, "I – I'm hunting these people! That's my job, that's what I'm doing with M15!"

Edward cast a swift glance around to check no one was in earshot. Luckily they were alone. "Keep your voice down!" He chided wearily, "Jesus Tommy, you want everyone to know our business?"

"Sorry." Tommy whispered, "I'm – I'm just shocked that's all. Edward this is very important. These people, this group you're talking about are very, very dangerous and if they're after your father then God help us all. You need to tell me everything you overheard on that ship."

"I will." Edward said with sincerity, his eyes travelling to the slip of paper that was still clutched in Tommy's hand. "But first I believe we had a deal."

Tommy looked at the tightly folded paper in his hand and true to his word, handed it over to his cousin.

Edward took a deep breath, "Do you think this could be it? Do you think this is what they want from my father?"

To his surprise, Tommy just gave him an indecisive shrug, "I don't know. Personally, I don't understand what it means but maybe it'll make more sense to you. He is your father, you know him well despite of everything."

Edward parted his lips to respond but no sound issued from his throat. He couldn't even hear the ruckus emitting from the pub. All he could focus on was the small slip of paper in his hand.

"Go on." Tommy urged softly, "What are you so afraid of?"

"Nothing. Not anymore." Edward replied in a brazen voice, his heart thumping frantically and then with trembling fingers, he unfolded the slip of paper.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	50. Welcome to the Family

**Author's Note:**Hey guys, I'm back! All my assignments are done so I can finally get back to this! Thank you all so much for your patience and eager reviews, it means a lot to me!

Basically, this chapter is a game changer. We learn a big twist at the end of it. Also, in this chapter we meet Siobhan Branson/Riordan and a setup to her story - which of course is connected to the main one. And we're also introduced to two major characters.

So, enjoy and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 50 – Welcome to the Family<strong>

_**April 30**__**th**__** 1923**_

_Matthew sidled a casual glimpse at his wife who stood idly next to him. She caught his eye and tried to conceal a smirk as they both pretended to be absorbed in some dreary MP's discussion on the latest debate in Parliament._

_"And so I said to him, I said Harold old chap you'd have to do better than that if you ever hope to get a seat in this House!" The MP punctuated his joke with a hearty chortle, prompting the rest of the circle to titter politely._

_"Excuse us," Matthew interjected with as much good grace as he could muster, "We really must say goodbye to the 'star of the hour' before we leave."_

_"You're already leaving?" The MP whined, his face drooping. "So soon?"_

_"We have two young children to run back to." Mary said immediately, "And we don't like being away from them for too long."_

_"Psh," Another posh MP waved his hand at them, as if he were summoning them away, "Just hire a nanny like everyone else!"_

_Before Mary could retaliate, Matthew just nodded with a smile and pulled away from them. "They're not worth the lash of your tongue." He said with a grin laced into his tone._

_"You know Matthew I don't know why I let you talk me into going to this dinner! I really am tiring of these dreary Parliament parties." Mary groaned, taking a well deserved sip from her cocktail. "You know I can't stand their pretentiousness."_

_"You're a fine one talk about being pretentious my dear!" Matthew replied with a laugh. "Now come on, we'll just say hello to Victor and then we'll go home."_

_"Must we?" Mary asked, her lips puckering into a pout she knew would be hopeless yet she decided to try anyway._

_"Yes." Matthew answered without even glancing at her._

_The couple approached the young man standing by the door as he bade goodnight to his guests, his entire demeanour was ridden with stress. He looked as though he were already in the lion's den and had backed into a corner for safety._

_"Victor." Matthew shook the up and coming MP by the hand with such warmth and sincerity, Victor felt his tension ebb away. "Congratulations, it was a wonderful speech you delivered in the House of Commons this afternoon. I completely agree with your views on the treaty. As a fellow soldier, I couldn't have said it better myself. Peace and harmony is just what the country needs now. Very well done for a man of...?"_

_"Twenty-four." Victor finished with a nervous chuckle. "And it's really for my son Ned that I'm doing all this for. He's only three, but speaking as a war survivor, I want my son to have a better future. That's what I – we – all of us were fighting for in the trenches wasn't it?"_

_"Of course." Matthew replied sombrely. "Your Ned's very lucky to have a father so dedicated to his cause."_

_Victor's cheek twitched into a grateful smile, "Thank you, I just hope Parliament thinks so too."_

_"They will." Mary interjected primly, "Just pretend to be interested in everything they prattle on about and you'll be prime minister before Christmas!"_

_The trio laughed, completely oblivious to the haughty crowd behind them, impatient to leave._

_"Let me introduce my wife, Lady Mary Crawley." Matthew said quickly._

_Mary accepted the young man's hand with a nod as he said, "Pleased to meet you Lady Mary. I'm Victor. Victor Gower."_

* * *

><p><em><strong>April 3rd 1941<strong>_

Edward Crawley gaped at the piece of paper in his hand, his brow furrowing into a confused frown as he read and re-read the numbers scrawled across the slip in his father's hand.

_23256060_

"I recognize these numbers." He said in a daze, rising to his feet. "These were my father's old service numbers."

"From when he served in the last war?" Tommy asked sharply.

Numbly, Edward nodded. "But I don't understand. How could this be an answer to what we've been looking for? He was discharged from the army twenty years ago for God's sake!" He crumpled the piece of paper in his fist, his face clouding with anger. "And when he was offered a chance to be made General or Lord Lieutenant, he turned them down! He wanted little to do with this war if he could help it! He may seem supportive now but he wasn't like that at the beginning!"

Tommy flicked his gaze towards his cousin, peaking his curiosity once more. "Really?"

"Yes!" Edward answered emphatically, "Right from the get go, he's been very resistant about this whole ordeal. Before all of this started, he was terrified at the prospect of Britain going to war again. I know, I remember. I didn't think anything of it back then but looking back now..."

"Looking back now what?" Tommy asked, his eyes burning with intensity as he took several steps towards his cousin. "What can you remember Edward? You have to tell me!"

Edward opened his mouth to answer but was cut off sharply by the droll of a large motor and a flash of white light. Both boys whipped around to see a large Renault pull up outside the pub.

"It's them." Tommy breathed, his eyes glued to the two figures emerging from the back. They paused just outside the door, indulging in a very marital pose leaving Edward and Tommy to tear their eyes away in embarrassment.

Edward pointedly cleared his throat and yelled, "Save that for the honeymoon!"

Siobhan turned away from her husband, her eyes sparking with excitement at the sight of her brother and cousin; she let out a delighted shriek and entangled herself from her husband so she could run to them.

"Tommy? Edward? It's really you!" She squealed, picking up the hem of her dress and promptly hurtling herself into her brother's arms. "I can't believe you're here, it's been too long!"

"Much too long!" Tommy murmured, clutching on tight to his sister. Sean crept up behind his wife yet went deliberately ignored by Tommy. Reluctantly he pulled away and gave her a strained smile, "You know Siobhan, we didn't just come here for the wedding, we came to take you back to Downton?"

Siobhan's smile wavered slightly as a dark shadow flashed across her face but she easily brushed it off, nodding in understanding. "I know Tommy." She said steadily, "Ma told me all about the plan. I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, both of you for helping us."

Swiftly, she turned her gaze to Edward. "Eddie!" She threw her arms around his neck and planted a hearty kiss on his cheek, forcing him to scowl. Siobhan chuckled, "It's good to see you haven't changed much! Now you have to tell me about the others. How's little Lady Emily getting along she must be about three months now? Is poor darling Benji all right? And Georgina too, I heard they were both involved in the first London bom -"

"Siobhan!" Edward interrupted in bemused irritation, "Take a deep breath. Given the fact that you'll be at Downton in oh say," He flamboyantly glanced at his watch, "Five hours, I think you can answer all your questions for yourself. It's not that important anyway."

Siobhan looked from Edward to Tommy, a polite smile frozen on her beautiful features. "Of course it's important Eddie. It's always important to me. Despite everything that's happened in the past we're family and," She reached behind her to take Sean's hand, "Sean is now too." Edward felt Tommy stiffen instantly and he prayed that they could be civil until they at least reached English soil.

"Of course he is." Edward quipped, bouncing on the balls of his feet and giving the man a jagged smile. "Welcome to the family Sean."

"Thank you - Edward." Sean replied coolly, his cheek almost twitching into a smirk, "That means a lot coming from you." Before an irked Edward could open his mouth to respond, Sean turned his sharp eyes to Tommy and rigidly offered his hand, "It's nice to finally meet you Tommy." Both young men grasped each other's hands in an attempted handshake, but Edward could clearly tell one was tempted to break the other's hand.

The pub door creaked open, Tom Branson shuffled onto the threshold with a pint of Guinness clutched in his hand.

"There you two are!" He cried cheerfully, "Come on inside, everyone's waiting for you!"

"Pa it's cold tonight. Surely we can't just leave Tommy and Eddie out here by themselves!" Siobhan called back emphatically.

Tom scuffed his shoes on the gravel before looking directly at his son and saying, "You look tired kid, why don't you both come inside for a bit?"

Edward blanched at the sudden solidarity behind Tom's voice. Tommy didn't seem to notice or care.

"No we're fine out here!" He hollered back, doing nothing to keep the derision leaking into his voice. He turned back to his sister, "But you two should get inside, people will be expecting you." He flicked a glance at his father who was still staring at him with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. "Just make sure you... our boat leaves at ten all right?" He added through gritted teeth, growing more uncomfortable under his father's steady gaze.

"Pa's trying Tommy." Siobhan whispered, her face melting into compassion, "Can't you both -?"

"No I can't." Tommy interrupted curtly, "I'm sorry Siobhan but that's the way it is. Anyway, I have all our tickets so just make sure we all meet back here at eight."

"Eight?" Sean piped up suddenly. He looked from Tommy to Edward in polite frustration. "That doesn't leave us much time at all."

"To do what." Edward quipped sketchily.

"Oh well I'm sorry if it's inconvenient," Tommy said in an even voice, "But I've used two days of my leave to come all the way up here in the middle of a carnal war just to bring you and my sister back to England, because you wanted to go there!"

Sean's eyes flashed dangerously. Edward held his breath, his eyes darting from Tommy, to Sean then back to Tommy again. Thankfully Sean held his tolerance with Tommy's foul mood.

Siobhan grasped onto her brother's arm, "It's all right. We'll be out as soon as we can." She promised, as though it were a matter of life and death. Edward pursed his lips and tried so very hard not to roll his eyes, holding back on mocking his cousin. After all it wasn't her fault she inherited her mother's sweet and gentle nature.

Once they had disappeared inside the pub to the raucous sound of welcoming cheers, Tommy turned back to Edward, his face set in a stoic expression while his hands curled into fists.

Edward released a low whistle, "Well I'll give Siobhan one thing, she certainly knows how to pick them. She's as bad as Rebecca. It must run in the family."

"Do me a favour?" Tommy asked, a little too desperately, "Talk to him for me would you?"

"Isn't that your job?" Edward retorted irritably, "Besides, we've got other things to worry about?" He added emphatically, waving the thin slip of paper in front of his cousin. "I have to at least try and find out what this means before we get back home."

"And what happens if we allow a spy to walk right into Downton?" Tommy asked boldly, gesturing towards the pub door where his sister and brother-in-law had just disappeared through. "With all the intelligence swarming around the place, it'll be like Christmas come early!" He took a step towards Edward and breathed urgently, "I'm just saying talk to the bloke, because if Sean is a spy, I'm not saying he is, but we can't be too careful, then I don't think I need to remind you how much trouble Uncle Matthew's going to be in if he's found harbouring a traitor in his house!" Tommy glanced behind him once more before adding, "Especially given – everything that's happened!"

Edward swallowed the rising panic in his throat. "You can't bring that up now." He weakly protested.

Tommy merely quirked his brow, "She's coming to Downton Edward. These people are after your father and my sister has just married a man she's only known short of five damn minutes! Do you really think I'm prepared to take that risk again with her? Would you do it if it were your sister?"

Immediately Edward shook his head, his thoughts straying towards Rebecca and is inability to protect her. "No, I wouldn't take that risk."

"Look, I might sound paranoid but I know these kind of people Edward! I've met them, they don't care who they trample over as long as they get what they want! They're not going to go away and I'll be damned if my sister gets caught up in the middle of it all again!"

Edward shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the piercing truth behind Tommy's words as they finally drove home. When he spoke, his voice was ridden with calm anger, "So what do they want from my father?"

Tommy quirked his lips into a sympathetic smile. "That's something you need to ask him."

* * *

><p>Matthew continued to pace the floor of Emily's nursery, occasionally throwing an annoyed glance at his wife who seemed to remain oddly relaxed, reclining in the rocking chair as she cooed at their baby daughter. Neither of them could face being around downstairs so they had taken to hiding Emily's nursery where they could think things through. It was almost as if the baby could cast some sort of peaceful spell over the both of them.<p>

Mary cast a fleeting look at the nursery clock, "They're due back in about a few hours. Do you think Tommy's shown him the clue yet?" She asked in a measured voice.

Matthew shrugged and pretended to adjust the pink drapery, "I'm trying to have more faith."

"How do we even know if Tommy's read it?" Mary whispered, rising carefully to place a now sleeping Emily in her crib, "He might've listened to you and respected your wishes not to read it."

Matthew turned to give her a cynical look, "Mary please. An M15 agent is told not to open something top secret?"

Mary chuckled softly, "Fair enough. At least that part of your plan might go without a hitch." She reached into the crib and stroked Emily's petal soft cheek with her finger, the loving smile melting off the Countess's face to replace with a look of apprehension.

"Do you think Edward will work out where the key is?" She asked, exchanging a poignant look with her husband. Both of them were well aware of the remarkable intelligence their son possessed yet neither of them chose to comment on just how much.

"I hope so." Matthew answered firmly, earning him a look of surprise from his wife. "I designed the clue in such a way that, should anything happen to me or both of us – our children – and only our children would be able to decipher it."

Mary tilted her head in a gentle chastising manner, "Oh Matthew, maybe you overestimate them."

"It's better than underestimating them Mary!" Matthew responded heatedly, guilt creeping upon his features as Emily squirmed and began to whimper. He crossed over to the crib in an instant to check on her.

"No, no I didn't mean it like that!" Mary said hastily, reaching out a hand to rest on her husband's. "I just – I feel this is too much of a burden to place on their shoulders."

Matthew shot her an incredulous look, "I think we might be about a year and a half too late on that one don't you think?"

"Exactly! Don't you think they have enough on their plate as it is with this war?" Mary asked in disbelief, "Why go and add to it?"

"Because if anything happens to us then we won't we be there to protect them and we need some sort of insurance!" The words tumbled from Matthew's lips before he could stop them. Mary closed her eyes tight, wishing she could stop those words from reverberating around her mind. Her fingers danced across the rim of Emily's crib and found her pink blanket draped over the top. She brought it to her cheek and rubbed it gently, trying to ignore the painful clench of her heart as she inhaled her daughter's sweet baby smell.

Oh God, it would absolutely kill her to leave her children behind! And leave them to face – those people and that threat all on their own? The mere thought was simply horrific!

Matthew watched her with a desolate look. "I'm sorry my darling," He breathed. "I didn't mean to sound so... I'm just trying to be honest. I don't want to sugar coat anything."

"No don't apologize to me Matthew. You're right." Mary said, her voice barely a whisper as she clutched on tight to Emily's blanket. "We might not be able to protect them. They'll be on their own."

"And so it's important they possess the clue as to where the key is." Matthew added slowly, his eyes burning into hers with intensity. "We don't have to tell them where it is and what it's for, just make sure they have the clue. As long as we're alive and we know where it is, the burden is on our shoulders Mary, not theirs. It's only in the worst case scenario. That's all."

"Otherwise we don't have to get them involved?" She asked, placing an arm across Emily's crib as if it were some sort of barrier, protecting her from any danger.

Matthew shook his head. "No. As I said before, if we're all right, then they needn't worry about this."

"That's all very well saying that now, but what are we going to tell Edward when he starts asking questions?" Mary asked, worry creeping into her voice, her fingers entwining anxiously with the ribbon on her dressing gown.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Matthew said curtly, turning away from the crib so he could move to the window and gaze into the moonlight.

"And Joseph?" Mary asked softly, creeping up behind her husband and tenderly stroking his cheek. At the mention of his eldest son, Matthew's eyes fluttered shut in despair. If it weren't for the beautiful woman behind him, wrapping her arms around his body, he would've probably broken down then and there.

"He's on leave from the RAF in a couple of days, he'll be home soon and we'll have to tell him. Matthew, I'm worried. This is going to re-open – some deep wounds for him, wounds which I thought had healed." Mary continued, her voice practically shaking with suppressed emotion. "Oh, why can't that man leave us alone! We've said all we needed to say!"

Matthew released a low, rattling breath and when he spoke; his voice was drenched with what one could call – revulsion. "Saying it is not enough." He clenched his hand into a tight fist as a surge of hatred rippled through him. "It's just not enough anymore."

The Earl gently yet firmly released his wife and headed straight for the door.

"Matthew what are you going to do?" Mary hissed, her panic ridden eyes darting from Emily to her husband as her fingers clutched at her nightgown.

"I'm going to make a phone call." Matthew replied simply before giving her a reassuring smile as he backed out of the nursery, leaving Mary standing alone in the middle of the room to dwell in her own confusion. She released a dry sob, slapping her palm to her forehead in complete and utter despair.

Emily whimpered softly in her sleep. Mary peered into the crib and soothed her daughter, feeling a small yet warm smile grace her lips. The door to the nursery creaked open. Mary glanced up, raising a finger to her lips as Georgina tiptoed into the room. The young girl wrapped her leather bomber jacket around her and carelessly brushed away her dark locks, tumbled around her shoulders, her porcelain face completely ridden with anxiety.

"I'm sorry." Georgina whispered, creeping next to her mother. "I just – I need to talk to you Mama."

"Is something troubling you?" Mary asked in concern, "Is it the WAAF? Are they putting too much pressure on you? Because if they are then I'll -"

"No!" Georgina hissed, "It's not them, they're being wonderful to me. It's just..." She trailed off, her fingers fiddling absently with the strap of her jacket, a direct trait of her mother. "I can't relax." She admitted finally.

Mary raised her brow, "Well, that's nothing new." She turned her attention back to Emily, "None of us can relax these days."

"No Mama...I can't relax knowing that - in a few hours, Siobhan's going to be back here." Georgina cheeped, staring meekly at her mother through diligent eyes.

"So?" Mary asked, trying to keep her own distress from seeping into her voice.

Georgina gaped at her. "So? Well, this house doesn't exactly hold pleasant memories for her Mama." She said pointedly, "Or have you already forgotten?"

"Of course I haven't!" Mary snapped, trying to keep her voice as soothing as possible. "But that was a long time ago and things have changed."

"Even so," Georgina pressed, "I know it's not going to be easy for her."

Mary closed her eyes in measured patience and gently but firmly, pushed her eldest daughter away from the sleeping baby. "Darling don't worry. It's all water under the bridge."

Georgina straightened herself up, folding her arms in front of her chest and glowering at her mother. "How can you say that?"

"Because she's married now." Mary replied, her tone suggesting that this was to be the end of their conversation, "She's coming back with her _husband_ Georgina. If anything he should help lay the past to rest."

Georgina tried to hide her snort of derision but failed, prompting her mother to glare at her. "Don't bring it up Georgina." Mary warned, "Let the past rest."

Georgina twitched her lips into a sarcastic smile, "I'm not the one you need to be telling that to Mama." She turned on her heel and quickly padded out of the nursery, once again leaving Mary to encumber in her worry alone.

* * *

><p>The journey back to England was even more of a trial than the journey to Ireland. Edward had to literally prise Siobhan and Tommy out of Sybil's grasp who had snuck away to wave them off at the docks unbeknownst to Tom.<p>

Both Siobhan and Sybil were practically in tears when they departed, but Sean reassured them that they'd be well looked after.

After the ferry pulled away, Edward waited until Tommy and Siobhan were well out of earshot before interrogating the newest member of their family. He casually sidled up to Sean who was taking in the sea air under the cloak of darkness.

"So – Sean. May I ask what your plan is?" Edward asked in a measured voice, pretending to examine the railings.

Sean threw him a polite frown. "My plan?"

"For when you get to Downton?" Edward said emphatically, impatience leaking into his tone, "I assume you do have one."

Sean sputtered in bewilderment, "Blimey, Siobhan was right about you, you certainly don't take any prisoners."

Edward feigned an innocent shrug, "I'm just asking a simple question. There's no need to get so defensive."

"I'm not being defensive." Sean responded boldly, "You're the one who's questioning me. I thought Tommy was supposed to be the M15 agent."

Edward blanched in shock, completely caught off guard. "Siobhan told you about that?"

"She's my wife Edward." Sean said in a chillingly calm voice, flicking his eyes upward. "She tells me everything."

Edward held his gaze. "Right, well do you mind telling me what you're going to do when you get to Downton?"

Sean tilted his head to the side, "Oh a bit of this and a bit of that."

"Meaning?" Edward pressed through gritted teeth, his tolerance wearing thin by the second.

Sean responded by twitching his face into a nonchalant expression.

"You can't just swan into the country when we're in the middle of a war and not know what you're doing!" Edward hissed.

"Who says I don't know what I'm doing?" Sean challenged, his tone implying that he was clearly enjoying setting the younger man on edge.

Edward sucked in a sharp breath, trying with all his might to control his waning patience. "I'm just trying to look after my cousin Sean. If you want to get yourself killed that's your problem, but Siobhan -"

"Is my wife." Sean interrupted tersely, "I'll look after her just fine."

Edward folded his arms and glared him, clearly not believing a single word this man had to say. "So why drag her to England when everything's going to hell?"

"That's my business." Sean replied, his face completely void of any emotion.

Edward stretched his lips into a painful smile, "Well seeing as you're going to be living under my father's roof I'd say it's everyone's business."

Sean released a dry laugh, prompting Edward to glare at him in open annoyance. "I'm sorry is something funny?" He asked coldly.

"Look let's just drop the pretence shall we? I know what this is about." Sean said airily, eyeing the young Crawley with a mixture of dislike and amusement.

It was Edward's turn to look puzzled. "I beg your pardon?"

"You couldn't be more obvious in your assumption; you clearly think I'm some kind of spy." Sean clapped him on his shoulder and gave him such a look, it oozed patronization. "And as amusing as it is to watch you make a complete prat of yourself, I feel obliged to give you some advice." He leaned closer towards Edward who was practically seething. "Leave the interrogating to the professionals," He jerked his head towards Tommy. "All right kid?"

Edward majestically straightened himself up, "You can't talk to me like that." He said quietly yet his voice held a threatening edge and he made sure Sean understood. "Do you know who I am?"

Sean laughed again, "You can't use your status on me kid."

Now Edward understood why Tommy wanted to deck his father. "Don't call me kid." He said in a controlled voice.

"I'm just saying, the time your kind ruled the world is long over!"

"Is that right?" Edward challenged, his fingers curling over the railing.

A mischievous smirk played upon Sean's lips as his eyes flicked towards his wife then back to Edward. "You'll see."

He moved away from the railing and proceeded to walk away when Edward enquired in a very careful tone, "Can I ask you something?"

Sean released a lazy sigh, "Go ahead."

"Do you love Siobhan?"

Sean stopped, swaying slightly as the boat rocked roughly against the sea. Then, gripping the railings, he slowly spun towards Edward, a confused yet supercilious smile gracing his handsome features. "What kind of a question is that? She's my wife isn't she? I married her didn't I?"

"That's not what I asked you." Edward responded brashly, taking a step toward the older man, "I asked you if you love Siobhan."

Sean didn't respond, he just continued to watch Edward with utter fascination and curiosity. Eventually, he replied in an amused tone, "You amuse me Crawley. I didn't strike you down as the 'open feelings' type. I guess I stand corrected."

"Either you love her or you don't?" Edward prompted, smartly ignoring the goading that would come hurtling his way and severely trying to stop himself from screaming, 'Your wife is fragile!'

"Yes of course I love her." Sean answered, his voice dripping with superiority as he added, "More than anything else in this world."

Edward tense his jaw as he watched Sean closely for a flicker of emotion, a smile, a twinkle in his eye – anything to indicate that he was genuinely in love with Siobhan and the meaning and threats behind this whole conversation was all down to Edward's own growing paranoia. But to his frustration he couldn't see damned thing. Sean's eyes were too distant to reveal even the tiniest strand of emotion let alone any real love.

"All right." Edward said, successfully masking his suspicion with legitimate approval. "Then I'm sorry I doubted you."

"That's all right kid," Sean grabbed Edward's hand into a handshake. "No harm done."

Edward watched Sean slope off to join his wife, leaving him to writhe in the turmoil of his own emotions as he restrained himself from kicking the side of the boat in sheer anger.

* * *

><p>"It was all I managed to get from him. The clever bastard definitely knows his rights." Edward mumbled, kicking off his shoes so he could swing his legs onto his bunk. He settled back against the pillows with a book propped against his lap but he was too stressed to read.<p>

Tommy closed his eyes in a dejected sigh, lifting himself off the narrow cabin wall and steadying himself on his bunk. "I suppose it's best we'll all be living under the same roof, at least this way I can keep my eye on him."

"You and a whole team of Intelligence." Edward added with a dry smirk. Slowly the smile slipped off his face as his fingers dug into his pocket, feeling the slip of paper. "I wonder... do you think Jude Fanshawe's behind all of - whatever this is?"

Tommy scoffed, "No. He's evil granted but he's not that smart." He hastily chewed on his lip, a dim expression clouding his face. "I'm not supposed to give out information on my case but seeing as your involved I think it's fair you have a right to know."

"A right to know what?" Edward asked, his tone accelerating with tension.

"I have it on good authority to say that Fanshawe isn't the one behind all of this." Tommy replied cautiously. "He answers to a much higher power."

Immediately Edward sat up. "What?" He whispered, his voice ridden with shock.

"Fanshawe's just the puppet." Tommy said darkly.

Edward released a low, rattling breath as he slid off his bunk, landing on his feet and folding his arms across his chest while he glowered at his cousin. "Then who's the puppeteer?" He asked steadily, "Who's pulling Fanshawe's strings?"

Tommy tore his eyes to the floor, squeezing his eyes shut in regret. He cleared his throat and mumbled, "It's Sir Victor Gower."

Edward felt his throat closing up as shock threatened to engulf him. "No," He denied firmly, "That's impossible! He can't be behind this! You're wrong!"

"I'm not wrong Eddie." Tommy said in a soft voice, his face a mask of compassion, "I wish I were but I'm not. We've been tracking him for some time now. And he's been very, very careful in how he's playing things. He's manipulating everything to make Fanshawe the figurehead of their vile group, the Oswald Moseley to their blackhand gang. So in case things go wrong, he'll have someone to blame. But actually, Gower's the one running things. He's the one that used to tag along to all those 'talks' with Hitler pre-war, cosying up to him. Now, he's like a little mole. Well, him and his son."

Edward's head snapped up, he automatically shook his head in complete denial as a storm of emotions stirred inside him. "No. Not Ned."

Tommy glanced at Edward in surprise, "Oh you know him?"

Edward forced his head into a nod, his heartbeat accelerating, "You could say that. W-what do you mean they're the one running things? How exactly is Ned involved?"

"They're partners." Tommy replied simply, "Both of them together, father and son. They make quite the team and let me tell you something, the things they've pulled, the threats they make – it's unbelievable! Edward your father is in a lot of trou -"

"No!" Edward interrupted furiously, his face turning scarlet with passionate rage. "You must have made a mistake; Ned Gower cannot even be a part of this - Nazi sympathizers group, let alone run it! The very idea of it just makes me – God I feel sick and it's not seasickness!" Edward rested his forehead against the cool, circular window and tried to take deep, calming breaths.

Tommy gaped at him, his features melting into sharp suspicion. "Why are you so quick to defend him?" He asked coldly. "You don't even know half the things he's done."

"I know more than you think." Edward responded quietly, more to himself than to his cousin.

Tommy sucked in a jagged breath, "Is it because he's an aristocrat? Is that it?"

"Don't be so stupid!" Edward spat, peeling his forehead off the window so he could glower at his cousin.

"Well it must be something like that if you seem so worked up over it." Tommy said coolly.

"Oh, I'm not listening to this!" Edward waved his hand in a dismissive manner as he returned to pacing the cabin. "You should hear yourself!"

"I should hear myself?" Tommy repeated, his face twitching into a smirk of disbelief, "What about you? Edward? Jesus, you do realize that you're essentially defending a Nazi?"

"Stop it!" Edward muttered through gritted teeth, his hands clenching into fists, "Shut up now Tommy, so help me God I'm warning you!"

Tommy stepped towards his cousin, "Go ahead and deck me Eddie if it'll make you feel better!" He baited, his eyes blazing with wrath, "But before you do just tell me one thing. Why are you so damn protective of Ned Gower?"

"Because he's Joe's best friend!"

There.

It was out.

Edward sagged limply against the wall, trying to gain control of his ragged breathing while Tommy just stared bleakly at him.

"Our Joe?" He asked hoarsely.

Edward released a hollow laugh, "Who else?"

"Are you telling me that Ned Gower and Joseph are -were...?" Tommy couldn't say it. The words seemed to stick in his throat.

"Best friends." Edward finished, his voice dry and lifeless, yet he managed to quirk his lips into a broken smirk. "And now...they couldn't be worse enemies."

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	51. The HMS Worthington

**Author's Note: **Okay, words can't describe just how sorry I am for leaving you guys hanging like this. But I've got a new temp job for the Summer and it's really demanding. Any morsel of time I do have left, I'm too tired do even watch TV let alone write properly! And I want it to be properly done too. I also noticed some of you are finding the story a bit confusing. Not to worry, I will from now on, post a quick summary before each chapter so you won't get lost in the dark.

Also, one of you mentioned how it's confusing when I split the chapters up. I'm really sorry about this (and I didn't want to do this) but this chapter has to be split up otherwise you'd have to wait another week for me to finish it! And I figured you'd rather have one now than wait some more right? I'm off next week so chances are, I'm going to regain some of my creative equilibrium and then we can finally get back on track. But this chapter, I hope will explain a lot and answer a lot of questions (as you can probably tell from the title). They also mentioned how they're not connecting with Siobhan and her husband. Well, there's more to come on that so just give it a chance, it's all I ask. I know it's hard to connect with new characters but I also know that they function in the story so trust me.

Again, massive apologies for the delay and the dancing around but I couldn't see any way that I could extend this chapter by the end of this week. I figured you wonderful people have waited long enough and it's bugging me too, when I don't update!

So, enjoy this chapter and please tell me what you think. X

* * *

><p><strong><span>Previously on Fall of the House of Grantham:<span>**

Edward causes friction with his father as he continues to hide information regarding the mysterious HMS Worthington. However, it is revealed that Matthew has more of a connection to the ship than he lets on. There is also a group of Nazi supporters nesting in Britain which Tommy, an M15 agent, is working to take down. It is revealed that Edward knew about this from the ship. But how? Matthew deliberately gives Tommy a slip of paper containing information about a 'key.' The paper had the numbers of Matthew's old service number scribbled on, much to Edward's confusion and annoyance. We then find out that the head of this Nazi group is, not as we thought, Jude Fanshawe but Victor Gower, an MP who was in Parliament with Matthew but - his son Ned was _best friends_ with Joseph.

Sybil and Tom's daughter is newly married to a Sean Rioardan who quickly draws Edward's attention to his real agenda as the idea of travelling to England admidst a war is ludicrous! And he questions Sean as to whether or not he really loves his cousin. Despite her own growing anxiety, Mary brushes off Georgina's concerns about Siobhan returning to Downton as the house does not hold pleasant memories for her.

They all know why.

We don't. Not yet.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 51 – The HMS Worthington<span>**

_**April 4th 1941**_

Edward Crawley marched straight into the foyer of Downton Abbey without giving so much as a second glance to his cousins who trailed after him. Cutler barrelled out from the drawing room, balancing a tray of glasses and cursing under his breath until he spotted Edward. Immediately his features melted into joy.

"Master Edward you're back!" He cried, hurrying to greet the guests. "How was the journey?"

"Tiresome." Edward answered curtly. "Cutler do you know where my parents are?"

"Lady Grantham is settling Lady Emily and Lord Grantham is in his study sir." Cutler replied, his eyes darting suspiciously towards Sean who was rooted beside Siobhan, utterly struck dumb by the splendour of the house. "Shall I inform his Lordship you're here?"

"No need." Edward said thinly, yanking his coat off. "I can do it myself."

Cutler gave him a swift nod, "Very good sir." He made a motion to leave when a movement at the top of the stairs caught his eye. "Ah here is Lady Grantham now."

Edward turned to see his mother galloping down the winding staircase, stopping short on the bottom step as soon as she laid eyes on Siobhan. Her hand fluttered to her throat, tears springing to her eyes as she glided towards her niece.

"I don't know what to say." Mary whispered, her voice shaking with suppressed emotion as she enveloped Siobhan into a loving hug. She pulled back so she could cup her face, staring into those beautiful blue-green eyes that were so like Sybil's. "Darling how are you?"

"Married." Siobhan answered with a cracked smile. She waved absently to Sean, "Aunt Mary this is my husband Sean Riordan, Sean this is my Aunt Mary, Countess of Grantham."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sean." Mary greeted earnestly as she took the young man's hand.

"Pleasure's all mine Lady Grantham." Sean said with as much sincerity as he could muster. His eyes took one more sweep around the foyer, "You really have a magnificent home Lady Grantham." He finally rested his eyes on his wife, either oblivious to or choosing to ignore Edward's indignant scowl. "Siobhan you were right, it is like a storybook castle. Why didn't you tell me more about it?"

Siobhan shifted her shoulder out from under his arm. Edward's jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed but he didn't say anything. Just continued to casually observe.

"What else is there to tell?" She asked with a nervous titter, her breathing growing heavier with each passing second.

"You used to spend your Summers here." Sean replied pointedly, "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"It's just a house Sean, bricks and mortar." Siobhan muttered politely under breath, yet her manner and piercing glare clearly indicating that he drop the matter at once, or else he'd be spending their wedding night alone.

"But you never mentioned it before until we were on the ferry." Sean pressed, trying and failing to keep the accusatory tone to a minimum. "I didn't even know you were descended from nobility until yesterday."

An uncomfortable silence penetrated the already, fragile atmosphere. Both Edward and Tommy glowered at Sean while Mary's lips twitched into a sad smile.

"I – I didn't really see the point." Siobhan responded, more to Mary than anyone else, her voice ridden with an apologetic undertone. "There was just so much going on it hardly seemed appropriate to..." She averted her gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry." She whispered. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that she was already entertaining second thoughts about returning to Downton.

Clearly Mary could sense this too for she said quickly, "Well don't worry you're both here now. And your grandmother wanted you to stay with her at the Dower House." Siobhan breathed a sigh of relief, her eyes glimmering with gratitude. Mary gestured around the foyer, "Downton isn't really the place for a pair of newlyweds to start their new life at the moment. This war has thrown all of us into a state of chaos."

Sean gave her a stiff smile, "I bet it has."

"So you mean they won't be staying here?" Edward interjected sharply, his eyes still nailed to Sean.

Mary cast him a curious look, "Yes Edward that's what I just said. Your Grandmama thinks, and I agree, that they'd be more comfortable at the Dower House." She turned back towards the couple and smiled, "There's a car waiting to take you there whenever you're ready."

"That's good." Siobhan said quietly, "I'd prefer to stay there."

Mary tilted her head to the side and gave her a sympathetic nod, "Of course darling. I understand. Both of you can get some well deserved rest and meet the other half of the family at dinner tomorrow."

"That sounds wonderful." Siobhan replied with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I look forward to catching up with them."

"Will that be all right with you?" Edward asked Sean, his tone accelerating with disguised patronization, "I mean – staying away from here, it might be for the best after all." He waved his hand around the foyer, "All this grandeur and all these people running around, clamouring into your personal space, it might make you feel uncomfortable."

"Edward!" Mary chided through gritted teeth.

"It's a harmless joke between me and Sean Mama." Edward responded, firing a broad smile towards the man. "He knows that. Don't you?"

A tense sneer leaked across Sean's lips as he said calmly, "Of course. Friendly banter between family. However I must confess I don't own a set of tails." He glanced emphatically at his smart wedding suit, "This is the fanciest jacket I own and it cost me an arm and a leg!"

"Of course it did." Edward muttered sourly.

Mary threw him another sharp look before plastering on a smile, "Don't worry. Since the war broke out we don't dress for dinner as much as we used to."

"Yes we do!" Edward interjected with indignation.

Mary strongly resisted the urge to elbow him. "We do but not as much as we did before." She said through gritted teeth.

"Please don't stop on my account." Sean said quickly.

"Now you're a part of this family you'll have to get used to our ways of living." Edward said haughtily, before his mother could object.

A flash of anger streaked across Sean's face yet he managed to mask it with a swift smile as he pointedly encircled an arm around his wife. "Well in that case Siobhan will have to teach me. Won't she?"

Edward merely released a small scoff before turning back to his mother. "I'm going to see Papa before I go up. There's something I need to discuss with him."

Mary sucked in a sharp breath yet managed to maintain all sense of decorum. She nodded, "Fine, he's expecting you anyway."

"I'm sure he is." Edward said with a small smirk, exchanging a look with Tommy.

"I should probably go and check in with Agent Blackwell." Tommy said evenly, "There are some things I need to- update him on."

Again Mary remained set in her pretence of blissful ignorance. She nodded and said steadily, "All right then. Goodnight Tommy."

Both Tommy and Edward stalked towards their intended rooms. Mary watched them carefully from her position on the staircase, silently praying that their plan had worked.

* * *

><p>Edward sidled into his father's study, shutting the door quietly behind him. The fireplace crackled with a freshly lit fire, sending chills of warmth down the young man's spine. Matthew stood near the window, his back facing his son, one hand resting on the ledge while a glass of scotch rested on the other. His head quirked in recognition as Edward entered the room but he didn't say anything, which only irritated the young Crawley further.<p>

Edward impatiently cleared his throat.

"Do you have something you want to tell me?" Matthew asked calmly, piercing through the brittle silence.

"Do I have something I want to tell you?" Edward repeated, disbelief dripping off his tongue.

"Yes. Regarding HMS Worthington. I take it Tommy's shown you the slip of paper." Matthew said casually. He was done tiptoeing around the subject. It was time for the truth to be aired once and for all.

Edward coughed in shock, his eyes narrowing in anger. "You knew? This – all of this was a setup to get me to talk about Worthington?"

Matthew swirled the chunks of ice in his glass, refusing to answer.

"Well in that case don't you have something you want to tell me?" Edward asked hotly, his fingers curling around the slip of paper in his pocket. Matthew glanced at his scotch and took a delicate sip but didn't answer his son.

"Papa?" Edward pressed. When he still garnered silence, he closed his eyes in controlled anger and tried to take a deep breath. "All right, look, I don't know what kind of a game you're playing but let me tell you now, I am not amused!"

At last Matthew spun around. Even through the flickering sheet of amber radiance, Edward could see his father's eyes were swollen and bloodshot, obviously suffering some kind of distress.

"You think I'm the one playing games?" Matthew practically spat, "You're the one who's been dancing around the HMS bloody Worthington for months now!"

Edward's mouth fell open.

"You have no idea how much time you wasted in keeping that a secret!" Matthew railed, downing his glass of scotch in one and immediately pouring himself another one. "Or how much danger you risk bringing to this family!"

"I did what I did because I was trying to protect this family!" Edward said fiercely, "Maybe if you could just listen to me instead of giving me grief all the bloody time, you'd actually realize why!"

"You really expect me to believe that you kept it a secret because of this family?" Matthew asked sceptically.

Edward merely laughed, "Of course you'd think otherwise. You always do. Well, I'm not a child anymore Papa, I'm seventeen years old and I'm capable of making my own decisions."

Matthew resisted the urge to scoff. "Oh Edward. If only I could actually believe that."

"All right so I made a mistake!" Edward confessed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, "But instead of poking me with it why can't you just ask me properly and then answer some of my questions!"

Matthew rubbed his hand over his unshaven face. "All right. Eddie I don't want to fight you anymore. Let's just fix this before things spiral out of control." He took a few paces towards his son who remained rooted to the spot.

"Things already are spiralling out of control." Edward mumbled to the floor. He flicked his dark eyes towards his father, "I want to know what's going on with Victor and Ned Gower Papa."

Matthew's head snapped up, his cerulean eyes darkening. "How do you know about them?" He asked suspiciously.

"Papa!"

"All right." Matthew said steadily, "First you tell me everything that happened on HMS Worthington and then I'll tell you everything you need to know."

Edward almost laughed out loud at the repetitiveness of the night. "Fine." He whispered, his voice hoarse ridden with defeat.

* * *

><p><em><strong>October 4th 1940<strong>_

_Edward Crawley frantically pressed his fingers to his friend's neck, trying to stop the steady crimson flow. "His jugular's severed!" He yelled, blood seeping through his fingers and onto the gurney. The young medic cast a desperate look around the medical cabin, "I need some more morphine! Now!"_

_While the third medic scrambled to fetch him the morphine, Edward turned back to Private Harry Smith and tried to smile in reassurance, despite the fact that his friend was practically drowning in his own blood. "It's all right Harry. I've removed the bullet from your neck. You're going to be fine."_

_Harry threw him a sceptical look. "I – I can't – breathe..." He choked, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth._

_Edward pressed his fingers more firmly onto the gash, "Pratt where the hell is that morphine?"_

_"Here sir." Ray Pratt flung the morphine packets at Edward who, with great skill, ripped one open with his teeth. _

_"Sir, I know this isn't the right time but – Commander Ryder asked to see you." Ray started tentatively, "It sounds urgent -"_

_"Harry needs me first Pratt." Edward interrupted sharply, supporting his friend's head as he coughed more blood, "Let me take care of him and then I'll see Ryder."_

_"But sir, it's an order-!"_

_"I said I'll do it!" Edward barked, his panic accelerating as Harry released a rattling cough, spraying both of them with blood._

_"Jesus." Edward murmured in disbelief, unable to do nothing but watch as his friend gasped for breath in sheer agony, before his eyes turned glassy and distant._

_"He's gone." Edward stated flatly. He stared at his hands still cradling Harry's neck, still drenched with blood._

_"There was nothing you could have done sir." Ray said in a sombre tone, "They severed his jugular artery. It was beyond your control." Edward didn't say anything, just continued to stare into his friend's dead eyes._

_In a daze he floated towards the washbowl and began rinsing the blood off his hands, watching the small crimson clouds stain the clear water. He wiped his hands on the towel and started packing up his equipment, "What does the CO want with me anyway?" He asked Ray in a bland voice._

_Ray shrugged, "Don't ask me I'm just the messenger. I only went to get some bandages for you but he cornered me in the hallway and asked me to bring you directly to his office." He cast a weary glance at the door, "You'd better hurry up and go. He's quite the impatient type."_

_Edward merely scoffed, "Well he can't be worse than Barrow." They both started to laugh when a sudden thought pierced into Edward's mind. He frowned; they hadn't seen General Barrow since the Italians had opened fire on them. Then it was run or die. Since they had been on the ship, they received all their commands from the Navy. "Ray, where is Barrow?"_

_Ray's brow quirked, "He didn't get on the boat?"_

_Edward shook his head. "I'm not sure." How odd. Then again he might be on the boat. Everything had been so chaotic once they'd stumbled on board and as second medic, Edward's attention was demanded left, right and centre. Their ship was a key target for attack which kept them on their feet for days._

_ "Oh well, I'm sure he'll turn up somewhere. Anyway, I suppose I'd better find out what they want with me." He started to head out from the curtain but stopped, glancing half-way over his shoulder. "Listen Ray I know this is a big ask but can you...?" He jerked his head towards Harry's body, blood still trickling from his neck and dripping onto the gurney in a steady rhythm._

_"I'll take care of it sir." Ray responded sombrely, casting a sad look at his friend._

_"Thank you Ray." Edward allowed himself to smile briefly before ducking out of the medical cabin. He swiftly made his way towards the CO's office, wondering what on earth they had to talk to him about. Being aboard a naval ship was surreal, especially in the midst of all the excitement. This was his boyhood dream but if anything it only stirred his dormant yearnings for the Navy even more. Perhaps they knew this and wanted to offer him a transfer to – literally – jump ship. Joe could do it so why couldn't he? And to hell with what his father thought!_

_Finally he reached the CO's cabin. He adjusted his collar and cuffs then took a deep breath before rapping sharply on the door._

_"Enter."_

_Heart thumping erratically, Edward pushed the door open and smartly marched inside. To his surprise, aside from the CO, three other men dressed in smart suits, hair slicked back neatly and staring at him with a mixture of curiosity and caution._

_"You wanted to see me sir." Edward began cautiously, unsure if he should hover near the door or walk all the way in._

_"Ah yes of course Crawley come on in." Commander Ryder said warmly, gathering up some papers from his desk and tucking them under his arm. "Actually, it's really these men here who wanted to see you."_

_Edward automatically gaped at them. They wanted to see him? Who the hell were they?_

_"I'll leave you gentlemen to it then." Commander Ryder said with a smile. Edward moved to let him pass but stopped as the Commander placed a hand on his shoulder. "Edward I really hope you consider a career in the Navy in the future. I'd love to have a talented medic like you aboard my ship."_

_Edward's spirit soared, he laughed in disbelief. "Thank you sir. Thank you very much."_

_Commander Ryder gave him one last smile and exited the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Edward's good mood rapidly evaporated, his own smile fading on his lips as he cast a watchful eye on the three men standing in front of him, drinking in their appearances._

_One man was short with a large mole on his left cheek, the other was of stockier build with broad shoulders and shorn hair, and the last man was much taller than the other two with a skinny frame and prominent cheekbones._

_The man with the mole attempted to smile as he gestured to Ryder's chair. "Come and sit down Edward. We want a chat with you."_

_Edward watched diligently as the man with shorn hair pulled out the seat, indicating he sit down. The young Crawley obliged them yet all the while, his instincts were screaming at him to run._

_"My name is Morrison." The mole-man said, pointing to himself and then to his friends. "This is Riordan and Garvey."_

_"Are there first names with that?" Edward joked hesitantly._

_"You don't need to know them." Garvey said curtly from behind the chair, his voice much deeper than expected._

_"Right. Well, what do you want from me?" Edward asked, his impatience wearing thin._

_Morrison nodded, exchanging an impressive look with Riordan, "The boy cuts straight to the point. That's good. We like that."_

_Riordan didn't say anything._

_"All right Edward," Morrison started, leaning against the door which made Edward feel more than a little uncomfortable. "Let's get straight to the point. We know your father."_

_Edward blanched, a little taken aback but not much. Many people knew the Earl of Grantham. After all, his father is a very popular man. But did they have to drag him all the way in here and away from the incapacitated soldiers just to tell him that? "There are lots of people who know my father." He told them steadily, itching to get back to his injured friends. "You'll have to be more specific if you want me to help you."_

_Morrison stared at him for a moment, and then nodded, "All right. I'll cut a long story short." He swept a hand around the room, "We are all part of a very important group."_

_He paused to see if anything registered with the young Crawley. Edward just raised his brow, urging him to go on._

_"And in the few years leading up to the war our primary goal was to try and stop it." Morrison continued, watching Edward carefully. "The last thing this country needed was another war. The memory of the last one is still engraved in our memories and will be till the day we die. Why put this country through that again."_

_Edward nodded slightly, all though his mind was drifting back to a certain, similar conversation he had once had with his father, when he had asked to join the Navy and his father wouldn't let him. That was the day Chamberlain had announced that there would be no war. He remembered how relieved his father had been..._

_ "We did everything we could think of." Morrison continued gravely, "We organized peace talks, conferences, meetings; anything that we thought would suffice. But of course it failed. Edward your father was a part of that group."_

_Edward snapped his head up, his heart hammering. Pieces were starting to fall together in his mind. Now they had his attention._

_"What?" He asked sharply, positive he had misheard them yet knowing deep down he hadn't, "My father was a member of your 'important' group."_

_"Yes, emphasis on the 'was' my boy." Morrison said casually, "And here's where our short story gets complicated." He began to pace around the tiny office in a cavalier manner, all the while, Edward's eyes never left his face. "We decided it was hopeless to try and stop Hitler so we all thought hey -" He abruptly stopped pacing and spun round on his heel to face the curious Crawley. "Let's join them instead."_

_Immediately Edward switched to the one defence mechanism he had left. Laughter._

_"That's ridiculous!" He tittered, shooting all three men incredulous looks underlined with sheer rage, "To even imply that my father is a Nazi sympathizer -!"_

_"Oh we didn't imply anything." Morrison interrupted, his face remaining completely stoic, "Your father wasn't having any of it. He left us."_

_"Good." Edward replied, turning his head away from them in such a manner that screamed this conversation was the end._

_"Is it really though?" Morrison asked, taking a couple of tentative steps towards the boy. "I mean look around you Edward. Look what happened to your brother in Dunkirk." Edward released a small hiss of venomous fury but didn't say anything. "England is fighting a losing battle and you know it."_

_"I don't think so." Edward countered, his face morphing into a smug grin, "My brother and the rest of the RAF beat the Luftwaffe. I know that was enough. They won the battle."_

_"But they won't win the war." Garvey grunted._

_"Ah, so he does speak!" Edward quipped, shooting the man a brash smirk. Garvey simply hunched his shoulders and refused to cater to his goading._

_"We're throwing you a lifeline here Edward." Morrison said emphatically, "We made sure you were saved so we could bring you to our side."_

_Edward didn't know whether to laugh or not. This had to be some kind of joke surely?_

_"You want me to join your pathetic little group?" He asked, almost spitting in disgust, "And why on earth would I want to do that?"_

_"Our 'little' group is far from pathetic." Morrison responded in controlled patience._

_"You're all Nazi supporters." Edward breathed, his eyes narrowing into thin slits of anger, "And to add even more insult to injury, you're British. You're supposed to be supporting your country. Do you know how sick to the stomach that makes me? You're all disgusting, every single one of you!"_

_"We are supporting our country Edward." Morrison fired back, deliberately choosing to ignore those last few words. "We're the ones that are going to change it and for the better. To restore England back to the way it was, back to when it was the height of success."_

_"Really? And just how are you planning on doing that?" Edward challenged in mock amusement, folding his arms across his chest and scrutinizing them in a patronizing manner. The Empire days were long gone and these men knew it. So why were they playing this ridiculous game?_

_"Join us and you can be a part of it," Morrison teased, his eyes glimmering with an expression so hungry, it actually made Edward's heart thump in ominous worry. "We know all about you Edward Crawley. You're smart, quick on your feet, headstrong. You could be a real contribution to us."_

_Edward blinked, his mouth dangling open while his eyes remained frozen on the men in front of him, completely succumbed to shock._

_"Your father was too cowardly to stay and see it through like a man."_

_The comment was enough to snap Edward out of his daze. "My father is not a coward!" He spat, his rage boiling to the surface, "You ever say anything like that again and I'll knock you into next week!"_

_Garvey made a move towards the young medic but Morrison threw up a hand which halted him. "No it's fine Garvey. The boy's upset. It's understandable; he's been through enough this past week. To bombard him with this was just cruel."_

_"You're good I'll give you that." Edward growled, "Cornering me on a ship. Where I wouldn't be able to run anywhere."_

_"Actually Edward the Captain informed me that we're almost on English land." Morrison said simply, "We'll be home in a few days ."_

_"Good." Edward shot up from his seat, blood rushing to his cheeks as he, a mere boy faced these three, grown and powerful men. "Then I look forward to telling my father all about you. I'm sure he'll have some very interesting things to say to the Lord Chancellor."_

_Morrison didn't even flinch in surprise or fear. His expression remained perfectly neutral. In fact, all three of the men obtained the most stoic features._

_"In fact, why wait?" Edward made a move towards the door but Riordan subtly blocked his path._

_No one said a word._

_"Get out of my way." Edward commanded in a dangerously low tone._

_"It's all right Riordan." Morrison said in an offhanded sort of way. He placed a firm hand on his colleague's shoulder, gently pushing him aside. "If the boy wants to leave, that's his choice. I'll just find someone to escort him back to his cabin."_

_"I can escort myself thank you very much." Edward snapped, his voice dripping with acidity._

_Morrison merely gave him a polite smile. "I insist. I mean it's the least we can do, dragging you here like this."_

_Feeling it pointless to argue with the man, Edward reluctantly sunk back into his seat. He observed Morrison exchanging a clandestine look with the other two men before swiftly slipping out of the tiny room. Edward folded his arms across his chest and tried to scrutinize and intimidate the other men towering over him. They merely gazed back at him, their eyes devoid of any real emotion._

_Suddenly the door flung open._

_Morrison marched into the room, his hand clamped around the leaver handle as he allowed two Naval police officers to enter._

_Edward leapt from his seat. "What the hell is going on?" He asked Morrison, failing to keep the panic seeping into his voice. Morrison tilted his head up to observe Edward yet his expression remained as calm as ever. Edward nodded at the Naval police, "What are they doing here?"_

_"Is this the young man?" One of them asked, eyeing Edward suspiciously._

_In an instant Morrison's eyes grew cold and hard as he focused them directly onto Edward's stricken face. "Yes." He answered, his icy voice masked with false worry. "That's him. This young man has gone completely insane. Officers, he was railing on and on about killing himself, we've tried and failed to calm him down. He keeps saying that he's going to throw himself off the deck so naturally we're very concerned for his safety."_

_"I – I'm sorry what?" Edward sputtered, incredulity burning in his dark orbs. "What are you talking about? I didn't threaten to kill myself!"_

_"Are you sure he's ill?" The other officer asked Morrison with scepticism. "He seems perfectly normal to me. Slightly shaken but nothing like the usual shell shocked victims we've seen."_

_"I'm positive." Morrison replied in a chillingly calm voice, "He's also suffering from extreme paranoia. He keeps saying that we're all 'out to get him' even his own division."_

_A cold, wet panic threatened to claim the young Crawley. "No, no you've made a mistake!" Edward hissed as the two officers seized his arms and proceeded to drag him out of the room. "I'm not insane they are!"_

_"Come on lad, out we go!"_

_"No you don't know what you're doing!" Edward cried, trying to wrap his legs around the hinge of the door in a pathetic attempt to resist. "You don't understand! Please, just listen to me God damnit!" He slithered his neck back so he could see the officers, "They are the enemy, they're spies, they confessed everything!"_

_Edward felt the hands clamped around his arms loosen in surprise, he buckled to the floor and tried to steady himself smartly but his legs were shaking too much._

_"You see." Garvey interjected pointedly, "The poor lad is obviously very unstable."_

_"I'm perfectly stable!" Edward growled, managing to lunge towards the man. Rough hands scrambled to pull him back but he was like an eel, fighting off anyone who dared lay a finger on him. "I'm going to tell everyone on this ship everything! Everything you told me!"_

_"Get him out!" Morrison suddenly yelled, his face melting into hasty panic, "Get him into the isolation cell and keep him there until we get back to England!"_

_"You won't get away with this!" Edward yelled, his face turning puce with defiance as he writhed under the strong grip of the naval police while they tried to drag him away. "I promise you, you won't get away with this!" He tried to use his feet to climb up the wall and cling onto God to knows what, but one of the officers gently tried to restrain his legs. Without thinking, Edward aimed a savage kick in their direction which naturally heightened the severity of his situation._

_"It's all right Edward." Morrison said in what he considered to be a firm tone injected with a drip of hope, "You're not alone anymore. We will get you some help."_

_If he hadn't been raised a gentleman, Edward Crawley would have probably spat in his face then and there._

_Doors opened all around them as Edward's tormented screams reverberated around the narrow hallway. Officers and soldiers spilled into the corridor, mumbling in confusion._

_Morrison narrowed his eyes at Edward, a look just for him, almost challenging him. His lips quirked upward in a menacing, threatening smile._

_That did it._

_Edward released a cry of fury and lurched towards Morrison. More officers swarmed onto him, hands grabbed him by the waist and quickly hauled him off kicking and screaming. He didn't know where they were taking him to, only that he had to get out! He tried to tell them the truth but his protestations fell on deaf ears. No one would listen. Everyone thought he was ill. They kept repeating over and over in soothing, patronizing drones that he was going to be 'all right.'_

_Then he felt his body slam onto a cold, metal gurney. He released a cry of agony as pain jolted through his spine. Hands kneaded into his arms, legs, feet and wrists, pulling on tight straps so he couldn't move._

_"What are you doing?" Edward asked, his panic accelerating. "Please, just listen there are Nazi -"_

_A sharp pierce into his neck stunned him into silence. Cold liquid trickled down his shoulders and into his arms, leaking to his feet. A pleasant numbness tingled his senses. Oh God. He'd been tranquilized._

_"Wait...what...say...Nazi...?"_

_Blurred voices drifted in and out of his ears, Edward tried to lift his head off the gurney but it was too heavy. Much...too...heavy... his eyelids drooped. But no – he had to tell them._

_"Smmmm." It was all that hummed from his lips, his throat was locked in relaxation and his mind, growing numb._

_"Wake...him...!"_

_His father's face swam before him, laughing and happy, his bright blue eyes shining with love, a picture from his childhood days. His head fell back with a fierce smack as the darkness finally claimed him._

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><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	52. The Penknife

**Author's Note:**Hey guys! A thousand apologies for not uploading sooner but life is basically what got in the way. Anyway so thanks to everyone who reviewed and I'm glad you liked the last chapter. Now we're going to really start peeling back the layers so we can get to the centrepoint of the story, and you'll be seeing more about who these people are and what they want with Matthew and his family. There's also a small part I added last minute about Siobhan because it's really important to the story. It was going to be at the beginning of the next chappie but I thought it'd suit better at the end of this one.

So read it and tell me what you think! x

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><p><strong><span>Previously on Fall of the House of Grantham<span>:**

Edward finally opens up to Matthew about HMS Worthington. There were three men on board the ship, (Morrison, Garvey and Riordan) who lured Edward into a small cabin and told him all about their secret group - a group his father was involved in. Initially this group only planned to stop the war coming to Britain as many of them were still the trauma and shock of the last war. However, once war became inevitable the object of their aim shifted as did their intentions and they became a strong, fierce group of Nazi supporters, ready to restore England back to the height of success. Morrison, the main man, tells Edward that Matthew wasn't having any of it and left them. He then tries to offer Edward a way in, praising his sharp mind and headstrong personality, believing him to be an asset to their group.

Naturally, Edward is disgusted and in the heat of the moment threatens to expose them once they reach shore. In an instant they turn on Edward and reveal him to be suicidal, exclaiming that he was threatening to jump off the ship due to shell shock. As Edward is hauled off into isolation he continues to plead his innocence but is protests fall on deaf ears. They strap him to a gurney and tranquilize him but not before he manages to choke out the real intentions of these men.

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 52 - The Penknife<span>**

Matthew couldn't move. He didn't even know how he was still able to breathe. All he could do was sit there, stunned, not even bothering to wipe away the stray tear trailing down his cheek as he just stared at his son. Edward slumped back in his seat, exhausted at having finally revealed all to his father.

How could he have let this happen? Joe, Georgina, Rebecca, Benjamin and now Edward have all fallen victim to this monstrous war. He was their father he was supposed to protect them! Would this run of bad luck continue? Should they fear for Emily's safety? She was the only one of his children who hadn't been tainted by the curse of war.

The Earl shot up from his seat, unable to stay still for much longer.

"It would really help if you said something." Edward said in a reasonably calm voice, prompting his father to turn around and gape at him in disbelief.

"How can you be so nonchalant about this Edward?"

Edward heaved a tired sigh, "I've been carrying this around for months." He shifted in his chair, "It felt good to – unburden myself." He shot his father a sly grin and nodded at the bottle of scotch by Matthew's hand, "Do you want to pour me some of that?"

"I understand why you've been so difficult. With me I mean." Matthew said in a mere whisper, his face a mask of self-pity.

Edward frowned, "I'm sorry, I'm not following you."

"I'm your father and I let you down."

Edward wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. "Papa – you weren't the one who strapped me down to a gurney and then tranquilized me." He said slowly.

"No but I should've -"

"We can go on and on about should, would and could but it isn't going to change anything!" Edward interrupted smoothly, "Now, it's been a really, really long night and I'm exhausted." He hoisted himself out of his chair, "I'm going to bed."

Matthew cleared his throat, "Fine. Your brother's coming home the day after tomorrow, he's due some leave so – we can finish this conversation then? With everyone?"

Edward hesitated briefly but then nodded, "I suppose so." He shoved his hands into his pockets and paced towards the door, pausing at the lip, he turned back to his father. "Goodnight Papa."

Matthew's lips parted as if he were going to ask a question. Edward knew it and he knew it but instead he just shook his head and forced his lips into a small smile. "Goodnight son. Sleep well."

Edward tried not to laugh at the sheer irony of his father's last words as he silently slipped out of the room. On his way up the stairs he spotted Tommy. He was standing in the corner of the foyer muttering to Agent Blackwell and another agent. His eyes travelled towards Edward and he quirked his brow quizzically at him. Edward just gave a small nod, signalling that he had at least, started the story of HMS Worthington. Tommy turned his attention back to Blackwell but Edward knew what he thinking. Now they can start to track these people down.

Oh, if only it were that simple.

Once inside his room, safe from any curious eyes Edward flopped down on his bed waiting to feel something. Some kind of relief or a weight lifted off his shoulders. Alas, it never came. If anything he felt just as empty as he did the day before.

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><p><em><strong>April 5th 1941<strong>_

Colonel Redford nodded at the guards stationed outside the War Office as he left the premises. It had been a tiresome day dealing with losses, casualties and signing warrants, all he wanted to do was go home to his wife. He scurried down the steps, loosening his tie with his free hand and glancing at his watch, his head swimming with thoughts of war, so much so, he didn't notice the man leaning idly against the pillar next to him.

"Evening Kenneth."

Colonel Redford stopped, startled, his surprise morphing into fear as he saw the man lift himself off the pillar and casually toss his cigarette away.

"Good evening Mr Gower." Redford replied, his voice trembling slightly, "How are you?"

Victor Gower tilted his head to one side, scrutinizing the man before him as he sauntered closer towards him. "I've been better." He answered in a curt tone. "I actually came by to see you."

"Oh? M-me?" Redford tried not to stammer but the poor man couldn't help it, "I – I don't -"

"Yes you do Kenneth." Victor interrupted, his tone dripping with amusement as did his expression, "Matthew Crawley? The Granthams? Your job? I'm here to hear the latest report on your...progress."

"Listen Mr Gower, I haven't forgotten Fanshawe's deadline!" Redford protested, his hand clutched around his tie, "I'm working on Lord Grantham! I'm meeting him tomorrow for a drink near his home!"

"That's good Kenneth." Victor said calmly, his lips spreading into a chilling smile as he clapped Redford on the shoulder. "Just make sure you manage to get something this time because, I'm just reminding you that I haven't forgotten either. And I'm a patient man but sometimes Kenneth," He pulled the wary Colonel into an embrace as he smiled at the guards watching the exchange, but the words he breathed into Redford's ear were cold and smothered with malice. "Even my patience can wear thin. You'd do well to remember that."

Sir Victor Gower drew back and absently flicked a speck of dust off his cuff, shooting the Colonel a warm and friendly smile. He raised his eyes to the sky and turned back to Redford with a bemused expression, "It's a warm night tonight Kenneth. Why are you shivering?" He gave the shaking Colonel one last smirk before hitching up his collar and stalking off into the night.

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><p>"Sir, with all due respect let's just throw Redford away!" Jude Fanshawe grumbled as he paced around the Gower's drawing room. He slurped down the last of his scotch before slamming it on the marble fireplace, causing Victor to shoot him a reprimanding glare. "The man screams incompetence. Let me get Grantham for you. I'm highly connected to some of the craftiest newspaper mongrels in the city, we can scope out a story for you in no time!"<p>

"Damn it Jude I told you before, I don't want some measly teatime gossip!" Victor snapped, slamming his own glass down on the coffee table. He leaned forward in his armchair and rubbed his throbbing forehead, "We can always paint him as being a Nazi sympathizer but we have no solid proof and of course he'll just deny it. And with all his children queuing up to sacrifice themselves well – no one will believe that! "

"Perhaps if I can get one of those brats to talk." Jude spat, "I had a run in with one of his daughters last year remember?"

"Yes and you were sloppy!" Victor retorted, "You were outshone by a mere boy I believe!"

Jude flushed a deep scarlet, "He simply caught me off guard sir."

Victor snorted and rose from his seat, shoving his hands into his pockets and pacing around the room. "Don't hurt them." He said suddenly, his voice frail and thin.

Jude frowned, almost in disgust, "I'm sorry sir?"

"Don't physically hurt them." Victor corrected steadily, turning back to face Fanshawe.

"Sorry sir, you misunderstand me," Jude countered in brash confusion. "I thought you were trying to everything you can to get Lord Grantham back on our side."

"Oh I don't think that's possible." Victor said with a tight laugh, swirling the ice in his scotch. "No, Lord Grantham made it very clear where his loyalties lie and it's not with us."

"So what are you trying to do sir?" Fanshawe pushed, watching Victor walk towards the mantelpiece and run his finger along the smooth marble.

Victor picked up the large photograph of his son, encased in a silver frame. "I want them to pay for what they did to my son." The smile died away from his eyes to be replaced with a cold, hard glare.

* * *

><p>Edward Crawley flipped the bed sheets off his body and roughly scrambled out of bed, reaching for his water jug. He poured himself a large amount and glugged it back, eager to quench his dry thirst. It wasn't the first sleepless night he'd had, nor would it be the last. But since he had opened up to his father, the nightmares kept flooding back. Deciding he might as well read himself to sleep, he snapped on the lamp and rummaged through his drawer until he found a decent book. He pulled out "King Solomon's Mines."<p>

"Well that'll have to do." He mumbled glumly to himself, settling back against the pillow and opening the novel.

A sharp object fell out onto his lap.

Curiously he picked up the object and held it towards the light, his stomach churning with guilt. It was his penknife. The knife Joe had given him for his twelfth birthday. Papa had tried to confiscate it from him countless times but Edward always managed to get it back. He had never gone anywhere without it and he had used it to pick the locks at Eton when he and his friends wanted a night out.

It was never meant to cause anyone any harm.

**_October 10th 1940_**

_"Damn!" Edward Crawley cursed, snatching his hand away from the door. He had been sat there for a good hour trying to unscrew the door handle with his bare fingers and needless to say, they were raw and bloody from his persistence. Ever since he had woken up, they had taken him down to the ship's holding cell for his 'protection' and confiscated_ _the pen-knife he had hidden down his sock. The only sound that could be heard was the steady They were promised to arrive on shore soon but Edward knew enough about the world to know that he wasn't getting off this ship alive._

_"It won't work Crawley."_

_A frail voice from the corner of the room jolted Edward into shock. He whipped around, glaring into the abyss of the tiny room. "Who said that?" He asked brazenly, wondering why he didn't notice anyone in there before._

_He received a dry cough in reply._

_Edward squinted through the slice of light emitting through the cracked window but his eyes widened as they fell across the huddled figure. "General Barrow?" He whispered in surprise, crawling towards his boss, "Is that you?"_

_"So, they finally got to you eh?" Thomas choked, "Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time."_

_"Why did they put you in here?" Edward asked fearfully, "What did you do?"_

_"I opened my big gob and it cost me my life." Thomas chuckled bitterly, "I always knew it would get me into trouble one day. I never imagined it would be like this. I should've been more careful. Then again, I could say that about a lot of things in my life."_

_"You knew those Nazi men?" Edward groaned, "You threatened to expose them, like I did, didn't you? Then they locked you up in here?"_

_"We're similar you and me kid," Thomas said hoarsely, shooting a cracked smile towards the boy. "We don't realize we're in trouble until it's too late."_

_"How do you know them?"_

_"I too was a part of their little club." Thomas scoffed, "Until they started to shift their focus. I was all for stopping the war but this – this is something else entirely. But then once I tried to back out, it was too late."_

_"Too late?" Edward narrowed his eyes towards the General, his words slowly sinking in. "Were you spying for them?"_

_"No." Thomas said softly, though in the dim light Edward could see his eyes were brimming with tears of guilt. "I wasn't spying. I was lying. There's a difference."_

_"But if you had agreed with them, then they could've used you as a spy?" Edward countered hotly._

_"Yes." Thomas replied, his tone tinged with regret as he stared at the floor._

_"My father trusted you and so did I." Edward said quietly. "Granted you were a real pain and we all thought of shutting you up in a pyramid, but we would never have thought -"_

_"Edward – I'm not proud of it. But I promise you, any information I fed them was false -"_

_"And yet here we both are." Edward interrupted pointedly, "Interesting how they knew where we were heading and what was going to happen? That doesn't seem very false to me, on the contrary it seems like a perfectly executed plan."_

_"Yes it does! They have other spies, everywhere!" Thomas responded brashly. "Edward these people are leeches. Once they have you, it's hard to let them go! And they had me; oh boy did they have something on me!"_

_"You mean they were blackmailing you?" Edward responded in disbelief._

_Thomas nodded. "Indeed they were." He said in a tiny voice._

_"Who'd want to blackmail you?" Edward asked brashly._

_Thomas closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead wearily. "Everyone has something they want to keep hidden Edward. They found out something about me. A secret of mine that could ruin my life and they threatened to use it against me if I refused to co-operate with them." Thomas heaved a despondent sigh, a haunted look of guilt clouding his eyes, "It wouldn't be the first time someone's tried to use it against me." He looked up and leaned forward a little, "But Edward, you have to believe me, I never passed on any legitimate_ _information. I could never betray my country. The fact that I'm sitting here proves it. I'd rather die than become a Nazi."_

_"Right, so what are they planning on doing to us?" Edward asked, trying to keep his anger in check._

_"They're planning on silencing us." Thomas answered, his fragile voice injected with irritation as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "Why else would they put us in here?"_

_Edward swallowed over the lump of panic rising in his throat. He has a sneaking suspicion they would do that but to hear it practically confirmed sent waves of fright rippling through him._

_"Then we need to get out." He said steadily._

_Thomas gave him a hollow laugh. "No one's getting out of here. Well – not alive anyway."_

_"Well we have to try!" Edward snapped, scrambling to his feet and dashing back to the door._

_"What exactly are you going to do Crawley?" Thomas challenged in amusement, "Pick at the screws until your fingers bleed? Oh, my mistake you've already been doing that for the past hour."_

_"Yes well if I had my penknife this would be a lot easier!" Edward snapped, feeling his way across the small door._

_"This isn't some dorm room back in Eton you know?" Thomas chided wearily, "Those aren't teachers out there, ready to give you a smack on the hand and send you to bed in disgrace!"_

_"I'm aware of that Barrow thank you." Edward replied coldly. "Nevertheless I have been sneaking out of places since I was in the nursery."_

_"I know." Thomas growled, "As reprimand for my behaviour Carson always sent me out_ _looking for you."_

_"If I could do it when I was three, I could do it now surely!" Edward mumbled, "This is our only way out and I'm not giving up."_

_"Stubbornness always did run thick and fast in that blue blood of yours Crawley." Thomas quipped, his tone laced with frustration. "I saw the same type of behaviour from your parents. They love each other one day and hate each other the next."_

_"Watch it Barrow." Edward snarled._

_"Tell me what do you think will happen if you do manage to get those screws unloose? You'll break out of this room and then what? Take on those goons singlehandedly?"_

_"Maybe." Edward replied through gritted teeth, his fingers grating against the metal._

_Thomas snorted, "You're too out of your depth. You're just a boy."_

_"And you're supposed to be the General!" Edward yelled, whipping around in fury. "But instead you're here and they're out there!"_

_Thomas didn't say anything. Gripped with shame, he hung his head. "I'm not proud of this. If I could take it all back I would."_

_Edward scoffed bitterly, "Spare me the self-pity. I've heard it all before and I'm sick of it. If you want people to understand you, you hold your hands up and admit to the truth. Don't go around feeling sorry for yourself because in times like these no one has the hour to give a damn!" He promptly turned his back on his General and proceeded to unbolt the screws, muttering under his breath, "We're all too busy with our own pain."_

_Seconds, minutes, hours snailed by until finally the last screw fell to the floor with a tiny clang. With a sigh of immense relief, Edward slumped against the door, beaming with accomplishment. He wiped the beads of sweat dotting his brow with the back of his hand before pulling himself up to stand._

_"Looks like my blue blooded Crawley stubbornness paid of eh Barrow?" Edward threw a proud smirk at his General but the smile died quickly on his lips. Thomas was lying utterly still, his head lolling against the wall, sweat streaking his pale face._

_"Barrow?" Edward asked cautiously, his medical instincts automatically kicking in. He scampered towards him, "Barrow are you all right?" Edward lightly touched the General's shoulder and released a gasp of horror as his left arm slapped against the floor, his wrist cleanly sliced open and pouring with blood! Clutched loosely in his right hand was the missing penknife._

_"Jesus Thomas what have you done?" Edward whispered in panic, forgetting all formalities and immediately reverting back to the name he had known him as. He tried to press his hand against the sliced wrist to stop the stem of blood but it was already proving futile._

_The former footman rolled his eyes up to smile at the terrified medic. He saw not the spoiled brat who had made his life difficult, not the stubborn young man who argued with him countless times in battle, but the grown medic, who was the epitome of strength from the only family who had ever given him more than one chance._

_"I'm sorry." He rasped, the colour already fleeing his cheeks. "Tell your mother I'm sorry."_

_"Sorry? Sorry for what?" Edward stammered, checking Thomas's weakening pulse. "Ugh, why did you do this to yourself!"_

_"I ruined her life." Thomas moaned, shaking his head in despair, "I won't allow myself - to succumb to their blackmail. I won't ruin - another person's life – because of my own – my own faults. It's the only way." With a shaking hand he tossed him the knife, "Here get out Edward. Go – and keep your family safe."_

_Edward could do nothing except watch helplessly as the former footman took one last shuddering breath, the life diminishing from his tired eyes._

_Edward hung his head in defeat._

_Thomas Barrow was dead._

Edward heaved a sigh drenched with annoyance as his fingers turned the knife over. The rusting blade still specked with dirty stains of crimson. No matter how hard he scrubbed, he couldn't seem to get it clean. He had kept this knife close to him because his brother had given it to him but now it had been tainted with another man's blood. It was his knife, does that mean Thomas's blood were on his hands...?

No!

He shook his head to clear away the cobwebs of guilt. He didn't hand Thomas the knife, that idiot was just a coward to choose the easy way out! Edward slammed his book on the nightstand in anger. He had stayed, he had fought, he hadn't given up on his life, his family! He could've done, Lord knows it would've been the easiest thing to do! If Thomas thought that ending his life would give these deranged people less ammunition then he was wrong.

Edward switched off the lamp and shuffled into his sheets, a newfound determination pulsating through every inch of his body. Tomorrow Joe was coming back home and then they would finally be able to hash it out.

They weren't going to run.

Running is for cowards.

They would fight. They would fight or die trying.

* * *

><p><em><strong>April 6th 1941<strong>_

Siobhan Riordan rose to the peaceful sound of birds chirping in the blossoming trees. She felt her husband's warm arm draped across her body and although the feeling should make her feel giddy with excitement, all she could feel was a numbing sadness. She turned her head to look at her sleeping husband who remained completely oblivious to the emotions brewing inside her heart. She heaved a sigh and shifted out from under him, careful not to wake him.

Wrapping her shawl tighter around her, she rubbed her bleary eyes and padded towards the window to stare absently into her grandmother's beautiful gardens, the same question swimming around in her mind since the day she set foot inside that damn house.

Why had she come back to Downton?

Things were so much better when it was just the two of them in Ireland. She could stop clinging onto her tiny thread of hope that he'd ever come back for her. That was it, she was married it was over. It was so much easier to forget about him when they were seas apart. But being back inside the big house, God, it just brought everything back. All the pain, all the memories. Her heart could break all over again.

Siobhan leaned against the window frame and nibbled on her thumbnail anxiously. The fact that Joseph was returning today would not help things in the slightest. There was a time when she loved Joe like a brother. They were practically like twins. Yes, she had prepared herself for this, she'd told herself time and time again that she had forgiven him for everything that happened, that she had Sean and everything was fine. But when she came face to face with him what should she do? Should she smile and greet him like the brother he used to be? Or slap his face and tell him where to go?

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


	53. The Other Branson

**Author's Note:**Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews, so sorry I couldn't update sooner but as you can probably tell this chapter is quite long. So this chapter is mainly about Siobhan as you can guess from the title. And we're peeling back another layer in the story.

So enjoy and tell me what you think! x

* * *

><p><strong><span>Previously on Fall of the House of Grantham:<span>**

An old penknife of Edward's reappears with a dark secret. It had been used by Thomas Barrow aboard HMS Worthington to take his life. While being held prisoner with Edward, he revealed that he too had been harrassed by this Nazi group and would rather die than betray his country.

Victor Gower, head of this group is hot on Redford's tail to find the underbelly of the Crawley's. And during a conversation with Jude Fanshawe, reveals he wants them to pay for what they did to his son - Ned.

Siobhan Riordan nee Branson is not warming to 'happily married life' as she is still haunted by her past at Downton.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 53 – The Other Branson<span>**

**_May 4_****_th_****_ 1941_**

Mary couldn't remember a Spring this hot before. As she left the house, clutching a small brown paper sack of sandwiches and a flask of lemonade, she pondered whether the hot sunshine would brighten her niece's spirits. This morning at breakfast they had opened the newspaper only to be graced with the news that Belfast and Northern Ireland had been bombed along with several other cities. Although it wasn't Dublin or Southern Ireland, Mary couldn't stem the chill trickling through her spine as she thought of her darling sister on the other side of the barricade. She had to make sure Siobhan was all right. She tried calling but her mother had said that Siobhan rose early that morning and scurried off to work, without even biding her husband goodbye.

Siobhan had clearly leaned towards her father's side and joined the Motor Transport Corps thus spending all her days languishing in the dark, dirty garages, fixing broken motors and driving military officials around. Matthew had insisted Mary take the car to the garage but she had thought it redundant and decided to walk there instead. At least maybe she could clear some of the dark shadows which had been plaguing her mind everyday for the past month.

So much had happened in that month for everyone. Edward had escaped to the Naval Academy and had only just returned home yesterday. He refused to talk to anyone and spent most of the afternoon shut up in his room, emerging only for dinner. Joseph had prolonged his leave and was returning home tomorrow, Georgina was spending every minute she could with the RAF and (much to her parents exasperation) loving every moment of it. And during her free time, Rebecca had started volunteering at the hospital. Despite the concerned protests that she was a little young to train as a proper nurse, Isobel and Dr Green saw no reason why she couldn't help with the menial tasks at hand, therefore feeding her experience when the time (God forbid) came when she could train properly. Eventually both Earl and Countess relented, remembering how wonderful their daughter had been at Dunkirk and thought that maybe some distraction would help take her mind of Emily.

Mary couldn't help the little sigh that escaped her lips as she traipsed past the cottage hospital. It seemed so long ago that they were all little children, running around the grounds of Downton. Sometimes, if she shut her eyes tight enough, she could see Matthew and Tom chasing the children on the vast greenery while she and her sisters sat under the shade, laughing as their parents looked on fondly at their family, smiling at each other without a care in the world –

The unpleasant sound of a large drill grated on the Countess's ears and popped her bubble of nostalgia. Mary stalled for a moment outside the local garage, composing herself together before striding inside, resisting the urge to press a napkin to her nose as the sharp fumes of petrol stung her nostrils. Burly women of all ages pushed around her, barking orders to one another.

"Excuse me?" Mary called out a little loudly, trying to attract the attention of at least one person, "I'm looking for Siobhan Bran – Riordan."

"She's over there." A young woman wiping her dirty hands on an even filthier rag pointed to a dainty figure kitted in beige overalls, hunched over the open bonnet of a car while an impatient middle-aged man dressed in military gear, hovered over her muttering furiously.

Mary grimaced, her eyes watering, "Thank you." She waded her way towards her niece, surreptitiously holding the back of her hand to her nose. She approached the young woman and decided it best to wait until she had finished before interrupting.

After what seemed like several minutes, Siobhan straightened up, grabbing a cloth from her pocket and wiping her grease ridden hands on it. "The radiator's overheated." She said grimly.

The middle-aged man groaned, "So now what?"

Siobhan patiently held up her hands, "Don't worry I can fix it. But I can't guarantee it'll be done straight away." She turned to side-step past the car only to come face to face with her aunt.

Mary held her breath. Siobhan's cheeks were streaked with oil and grease as were her overalls which were splattered with black smudges. Oh if Granny could see her now she'd have a second coronary!

"Aunt Mary!" Siobhan exclaimed in welcome surprise, wiping her glistening forehead with the back of her arm. She tossed the soiled cloth over her shoulder without care, "What brings you down here?"

Mary diligently held up the sack and flask, her eyes willing themselves not to pop out of her head. "I thought you might be hungry so I asked Mrs Plum to pack you some lunch." She said as casually as she could, conscious of the man eyeing the figure of her niece who was now bending to retrieve a spanner

"Oh." Siobhan looked up with a frozen smile, "That's wonderful thank you. But as you can tell I'm rather busy so I won't have time to eat until much later I'm afraid."

Mary shook her head in a dismissive manner, "No worries. I also wanted to see – how you are."

Siobhan gave her an absent frown as she inspected the wires of the car, "How I am?" She repeated in a daze, still very much focused on the task at hand. "Why?"

"I read the paper this morning," Mary replied evenly, her hands fidgeting with the brown sack, "About Northern Ireland and I just wanted to know if you'd heard."

"Oh yes." Siobhan responded softly, her eyes void of any emotion, "I'm sorry to hear that. Have you spoken to Ma?"

"Not yet." Mary rejoined, choosing her words carefully, "But I wanted to speak to you first. I wonder – has Sean seen the papers?"

"I'm not really sure if he's seen this morning's I was up and out before he woke up!" Siobhan said with a nervous titter, "I've been feeling rather tired lately – too tired so I need the early start."

"Well perhaps it's because you're working so hard." Mary said worriedly, placing the food and drink next to her reach. "Won't you take a break and eat something?"

Siobhan didn't seem to hear her. She glanced at her watch, "I'm supposed to run a load of officers down to the airfield at three so they can catch a flight." She muttered to her customer.

"Not without finishing my car you're not!" The middle-aged grump snapped, "Just because I'm in the home guard, doesn't mean I'm any less important!"

Siobhan turned to her aunt and rolled her eyes, "I'm sorry Aunt Mary can we talk about this later?"

"Fine." Mary said with a forced smile, ready to plunge straight into the dreaded news. "But I also came down her to tell you that Joe's arriving tomorrow."

Siobhan nearly let the wrench slip out of her oily grasp. A flicker of anger danced across her face but it was gone in an instant. "That's good." She said in a voice that suggested completely the contrary, "I'm looking forward to catching up with him again."

Mary released a despondent sigh as she left that God awful place. She didn't know how Siobhan could stand working there day in and day out. Then again she didn't know how Sybil could stand living in a poky little flat in Dublin for the past twenty-two years so she assumed perseverance ran in her veins. As she walked back to the house, she found her thoughts wondering to Siobhan's behaviour during the last month. Marriage seemed to have silenced her in many ways. It struck Mary as odd how a girl who used to be so forthcoming with her opinions, suddenly became withdrawn and compliant, notably when her husband remained glued to her side. It didn't seem right, especially for someone whose parents bore no problem in expressing their opinions about the world, no matter how much trouble they got into. Then again maybe Siobhan decided she could learn from her parent's mistakes and accept her place with good grace. Or, Mary thought with a sickening jolt, maybe it all stems her utter humiliation Summer before last.

* * *

><p><em><strong>May 5<strong>__**h**__** 1941**_

Joseph Crawley marched into the foyer of his home, decked in his navy blue uniform, his eyes worn and tired yet glistening with the relief of lasting through a momentous round of air battles. Much to his parents polite chagrin he had delayed his leave for a month due to the sudden loss of Pilots. As a result, the young heir had been rewarded with a promotion into the bomber command unit, which was set to deploy to Germany within the next few days for a special mission. News, he was obviously not looking forward to sharing with his parents. He didn't even need to set foot inside the house to know that things were strained enough without him adding the extra tension.

"Joe!"

Joseph looked up with a smile as his little brother scampered down the steps. He had to suck in a breath – my how Benji had grown!

"You're back!" Benjamin hurtled himself into his brother's arms.

"Hello Benji!" Joseph exclaimed, his voice hoarse ridden with emotion. He wrapped his arms tighter around his little brother and squeezed his eyes shut. "I missed you."

"I missed you too!" Benjamin cheeped, pulling away from his brother's strong embrace and beaming at him. "Come on!" He grabbed Joe's hand, proceeding to pull him up the grand staircase.

"Slow down!" Joseph laughed, tripping over his own feet in his brother's haste, "Where is everyone?"

"Oh, they're all around. There's so much to tell you but first I want to show you my model Spitfire! Sean helped me finish it for you!"

"Hold on, hold on." Joseph stopped mid-way up the staircase, resting his hand atop the polished banister and gazing sternly at his brother. "Who's Sean?"

"Siobhan's husband of course." Benjamin replied as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Joseph stood absolutely still. His heartbeat accelerating, "Siobhan she's – she's here? At Downton?" He asked, trying to keep his voice on an even keel.

Benjamin however could sense his brother's festering anxiety. He peered up curiously at him, "Yes. Mama says they came to help with the war. They're living with Grandmama and come to dinner every night."

"Do they?" Joseph swallowed over the burning lump in his throat. He grimaced, "And- and how does she like being back at Downton?"

Benjamin frowned, contemplating this question. "She doesn't really come inside much. She always wants to be outside. I try to get her to play with me but she seems really sad. She told me that she used to play with a special friend in our garden and she misses him."

Joseph couldn't bear to look in his brother's innocent eyes anymore.

"Did her friend die in the war Joey?" He asked fearfully.

"Of course not!" Joseph responded with a tinkering laugh, "Don't you go worrying yourself over it. It's nothing." He hastily glanced around the busy foyer, removing his cap and running his hand through his hair in agitation. A spike of pain rippled through his shoulder. It had been playing up again these past few weeks but Joseph merely chalked it down to stress. "Listen Benji I'll look at the Spitfire later, I'm sure it's wonderful. But first, do you know where Mama and Papa are?"

"Mama's having tea with Grandmama and Papa's gone to London for a meeting." Benjamin answered, his shoulders drooping with disappointment at Joseph's wandering attention.

"All right, well in that case I shall love to see the Spitfire!" Joseph exclaimed with as much excitement as he could inject into his voice.

Benjamin's eyes immediately blazed with delight as he grabbed his brother by the hand and proceeded to tug him up the stairs.

* * *

><p>"I do so love Spring." Mary sighed as she elegantly placed her teacup on the small table beside her. She cast a pleasant eye around the Dower House garden, blooming with fresh flowers. She threw a smile at her daughter who sat squealing on her grandmother's lap. "It always reminds me of hope."<p>

Cora chuckled at her daughter's irony, stroking Emily's dainty head. "I suppose in times like these one can always use the hope!" She clasped her hands together in excitement, "So when is Joe coming home?"

Mary's lips thinned slightly, she silently smoothed her hands over her dress, ironing out the pretend creases before answering in a small voice. "This afternoon. I trust you and the – newlyweds are still coming to dinner tonight?"

"And miss out on a precious opportunity to see my eldest grandson?" Cora beamed. "Nothing could keep me away!"

Mary allowed a tiny smile to tug at her lips. "That's good." She reached for her teacup and took a long sip. All the while, her mother watched her, a frown darkening the happiness glowing from her face.

"Mary what's the matter?" She asked in soft importance so as not to alarm Emily, "Something's not right I can tell."

Mary shook her head, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. "Mama – may I speak evidently?"

Cora smirked at her eldest, "Have you ever needed permission?"

Mary didn't return the smile. "Georgina came to me with some concerns about Siobhan being back at Downton." She paused, licking her lips nervously. Cora nodded her head slightly, indicating she continue. "Well Mama, to be honest, I think she might be right. And I don't think Siobhan has quite forgiven Joe for intervening like he did during her engagement to – well you know." Mary said steadily, her eyes flicking shamefully to the floor. "It was a lot easier to forget about all the harsh things that were said while Joe was away but now he'll be back, both of them under the same roof and I'm afraid we might have to brace ourselves for fireworks tonight!"

Cora rolled her eyes. "Oh Mary surely you exaggerate? That was three years ago and so much has happened since then! Siobhan is married for one thing and -" She broke off quickly, glanced around to check no one was within earshot before leaning closer and whispering, "We are very fortunate to be shot of that particular young man."

"Mama -"

"No listen!" Cora hissed. Mary obediently shut up. The former Countess swiftly waved at Nanny standing near the backdoor and she sped forward to take Emily away from her. Once they had both gone out of audible range, Cora placed a hand on her daughter's knee and continued in a hush, "At the time it seemed like the perfect match but never did we dream he'd turn out the way he did. Mary, if your son hadn't intervened when he did, Siobhan would be disgraced, we'd all be disgraced. In my opinion, Joe saved her and this family from complete ruin and for that we should be eternally grateful to him for it. I know Sybil is. And Tom is too, regardless of the circumstances between us now."

Mary pursed her lips and nodded, allowing her mother's words to soothe her. The two of them seated outside her grandmother's old house, talking about family problems only struck a sharp chord of nostalgia in the Countesses heart. "Oh Mama, I wish Granny were here." Mary sniffed, tears burning behind her dark orbs. "She would've known what to do."

Cora let out a fond chortle at the memory of her late mother-in-law. "She'd have had that boy out so fast her shoe would still be imprinted on his back to this day!"

They both laughed, their hearts filled with warmth for the former Dowager Countess. "But alas this is what it means to move on my darling." Cora uttered softly, "People come and people go." She threw a fond glance at Emily being carried around the garden, "People are born and people die. I just have to look at my grandchildren to know that. You know, I can see a piece of your father in each of them. Especially Joe he has his – he has his patrician spirit! But in their own way they remind me of him and then I'm reminded..." She took a deep breath, her blue eyes brimming with the long held tears finally about to shed. "Mary, I'm reminded of how much I miss him." Her face crumpled and the tears spilled down her cheeks as she pressed her palm against her chest in memory of the great love she felt for her late husband, "Every day. With all my heart and soul."

Mary felt another stab of nostalgia strike her heart at the memory of the father she loved well. All though it had been well over four years now, it still hurt to see her mother alone, without him towering by her side. "I know Mama." She patted her mother's hand, "I miss him too, all the time." She frowned, aching to confess the burden which had been weighing on her mind ever since she found out they were being hunted once more. "Mama I have a terrible feeling inside me that something's going to go horribly wrong."

"Oh my dear, you and every other mother up and down the world." Cora squeezed her daughter's hand, "Nothing is going to happen to you or your precious family."

Mary shook her head desperately, "No, Mama you don't understand -"

"Excuse me Lady Grantham." Wells, Cora's butler stalked onto the terrace, his face set like granite. "I don't mean to interrupt your Ladyships but - it's that boy."

"You mean Peter." Cora corrected simply.

Wells grunted in response, "He's barricaded himself in his room again and refuses to emerge. I have tried several times to coax him out but as per usual the b – Peter – pretends as if I am part of the wall Milady."

Mary pressed her lips into her teacup, trying to conceal her grin.

Cora sighed, "Very well. I'll be up in a minute." She rose from her seat, giving her daughter a warm smile. "We'll talk later. Just remember what I said. Siobhan is safe here. Luckily, she dodged a very large bullet."

Mary gave her mother a strained smile, watching her march into the house. Why hadn't those words felt more comforting?

* * *

><p>"I'm glad you decided to meet here." Matthew said to his old friend, glancing around the bustling lobby of the Dorchester hotel.<p>

"Well I thought it'd be harder to overhear." Colonel Redford replied, taking a small sip of brandy. He placed the glass on the marble table and turned his attention to Matthew, his eyes growing small in the afternoon sunlight. "Especially since you said – Edward revealed everything to you about HMS Worthington?"

"Yes." Matthew said grimly, sipping his scotch, "That was why I couldn't meet with you before, I had just found out about it. And as a father it was – terrible to hear Kenneth. Just thinking about what my son went through, I shudder to think what could've happened if he hadn't made it off that ship."

"What do you mean?" Colonel Redford asked, trying to keep his voice on an even keel.

"Maybe if I'd just let him join the damned Navy like he wanted to, things might've turned out differently." Matthew said heatedly, "But he was fourteen, far too young. I wanted him to live his life away from the sea and become someone."

"Sometimes you just have to trust they know what they want, never mind how young they are." Redford said sympathetically, "If your son wants to join the Navy and is dead set on it – the worst thing you can do as a parent is stand in their way."

A flash of guilt struck across the Earl's face but he tried to cover it up by sipping his scotch. "I know that now." Matthew leaned forward, speaking with passionate defence, "I was only trying to make him see that the Navy isn't the only option he had. Joe's the heir and he'll inherit the estate and the title after I die so he's settled. Whereas Edward and Benjamin must make their own way in this world, find a decent job, marry well and make a home for themselves. Edward has always grown up with the notion of that. Unlike his sisters, he cannot stay at Downton forever or until he marries, at least not in society's eye. Ed was always conscious of that and wanted to find a way to show he was worthy. I wanted him to know that he had other options besides the Navy or the Army or whatever it is that second sons usually do to 'find themselves.'"

"And now?" Colonel Redford prompted gently.

Matthew collapsed back in his seat, "As it stands he's already run off to join Naval Academy and about to embark on a voyage."

"Really?" Redford asked, greatly intrigued, "Do you know where he's going?"

"I don't even know which ship he's been assigned to." Matthew said glumly, "It's so hard trying to get him to talk. Especially to me."

"But he did talk to you though." Redford countered quietly, watching his old friend carefully, "Did he say anything about the missing Naval Officers.

Matthew looked at him for a few seconds, his fingers lightly curling around his glass of scotch. He shook his head. "No. But I don't think that's a conversation we'll be having anytime soon. He's home and safe and that's all the comfort to me and Mary right now."

Colonel Redford offered the Earl a comforting smile yet trying to mask the disappointment seeping across his face.

* * *

><p>Flight Lieutenant Joseph Crawley climbed the hill towards the majestic, Roman ruins. Siobhan was seated with her back to a pillar, just staring at the big house from a distance, her sketch pad lying forgotten on her lap.<p>

Blank as her expression.

"I thought I might find you here." Joseph said softly. He ran his hand along a pillar with fondness etched across his handsome face, "We don't come here as much as we used to. Sometimes Georgie and I come here to think or to escape but every time we do – we think about the games we used to play as children? Do you remember?"

"Of course. I forgot how beautiful Downton looks from here. Especially at this time of year." Siobhan remarked with a small smile yet her voice was dripping with ice. Joseph shuffled awkwardly away from her, unsure of her coolness towards him. "Yet I don't know how you manage it," She suddenly snapped out of her daze and picked up her pencil, proceeding to lightly sketch the outline of the house, "To walk around your grand estate, blind to all the centuries of misery that's dripping off those fine walls. All those memories, all the – people."

Joseph sighed at her brashness, "Siobhan you have every right to be upset with me." He started with a little impatience rolling off his tongue.

"Oh, well thank you for permission." Siobhan replied silkily, pretending to be absorbed in her sketching.

Joseph sucked in a sharp breath and closed his eyes in deserving reprimand. "But just try to understand that I acted out of honesty not unkindness."

She didn't say anything, just continued to sketch away at her paper only her lines were becoming darker with the harshness of her hand.

"And besides," Joseph continued bravely, knowing he pushing it, "If you had gone ahead with that marriage it would've only ended in danger."

"Danger!" Siobhan scoffed, still refusing to look at him, "That's such typical gentry talk."

"Excuse me?" Joseph retaliated sharply.

Siobhan stopped drawing, tilting her head towards her cousin to show the first sign of recognition. "There's nothing dangerous with falling in love!"

It was on the tip of the young heir's tongue to spit out everything her beloved 'fiancé' had done. But one look at Siobhan's face and he knew he couldn't do it. She was trying with all the will she had to keep her tears at bay and he knew better than to push it.

"You're married now." He said in a voice of forced calm, "I thought all this would be in the past."

"Well so did I." Siobhan replied with a broken smile, and then realizing her situation, straightened herself up. "But you're right. I am another man's wife now and I must do all I can to put -" She broke off, taking a deep steady breath. She couldn't even bear to say his name. "To put him out of my mind. But now being back here – it's not the same as it was before and I hate to say that! This place is ruined for me! It's not the childhood Summer home I once knew and loved, not anymore! This place is cursed I'm telling you!"

"Don't ever say anything like that again do you hear!" Joseph snapped in protective rage as if they were still children sheltered in the nursery and she had insulted his favourite toy. It certainly did seem that way. For every blow that the character of his house received, he felt it strike him like a branding iron. It really was as if he and Downton were one and the same. Cursed indeed! What a thing to say!

"I'm sorry Joe." Siobhan faltered, her eyes softening slightly, "But I can only speak the truth to you. It's so damn hard being back here where..." She grinded her teeth together to stop the pain from screaming out.

"I hate to hear you say that." Joseph said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets and trying to maintain his cool despite the flicker of anger flaring in his cerulean eyes. "Siobhan if only you know what kind of a man he's become."

She slowly turned her head to casually stare at him yet her eyes were ablaze with curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Well for one thing you won't be sat here moping!" Joseph responded pithily, trying to ignore the stabbing pain ripping through his shoulder. "I promise you it's no great loss."

Siobhan shook her head in disbelief, "How can you of all people say that about him?" She accused in a mere whisper, dripping with trepidation, as if she hardly knew the cousin whom she had loved as a brother. He almost seemed like a stranger to her now.

Almost.

Joseph just shrugged nonchalantly as if it didn't bother him in the slightest. Except it did. "I just can. He's nothing to me now. Go back to your husband Siobhan. Go back and forget about him because he's definitely forgotten about you." He turned and walked away, heading back to his house and trying to keep his own tears from shedding.

* * *

><p>"Germany!" Mary exclaimed in shock, shooting a desperate glance across the dinner table at her husband who stared agape at his eldest son squirming in his chair. "Did you know about this Matthew?"<p>

"No I did not!" Matthew responded heatedly, turning his attention to Joseph once more, "What do you mean you'll be gone for eight months?"

"Talk about venturing into the lion's den." Edward muttered to himself, provoking chiding glares from his parents.

"Please Papa you know I have no say in any of this." Joseph said wearily. He carefully started sprinkling salt on his meat in order to keep from looking at anyone and to disregard the prickling pain in his shoulder. "I was offered a wonderful promotion into bomber command and after the hell I've been put through this past year, I decided to take it. This mission to Germany is the string attached."

"Well it's a very large string." Mary said coolly, she began cutting into her meat with ferocity. "I suppose you'll be leaving at the drop of a hat?"

Matthew shot her a warning look as Joseph chewed slowly, exchanging a guilty look with his brother who merely smirked at him from across the table. He swallowed, "A week."

"Wonderful." Mary replied sourly.

"Granny not joining us?" Rebecca asked, rapidly eager to change the subject.

"She's still feeling rather tired so she's having a tray in her room." Matthew answered, trying to mask the worry lacing his tone. More and more now Isobel had taken to retiring to her room earlier in the evenings complaining of tiredness. Only Matthew knew that tired wasn't ever in his mother's vocabulary and tried to shake the ominous feeling settling upon his shoulders.

"But it can't be a dangerous mission surely?" Mary pressed her son, clearly not intending to let this argument drop, "I mean, they can't just expect you to -"

"So Sean," Joseph diverted very loudly, his eyes on his mother, "Siobhan tells me that you've just started working on our farms?" From the moment the young heir had met this fellow he sensed something was off but he merely brushed it down to unfamiliarity. Wartime taught him to always be on alert and trust few people. This encounter was no different regardless of him being his cousin's husband.

Sean dabbed his mouth with his napkin before answering, "Yes for about two days now."

"And how are you finding it?" Mary asked with earnest, her cheeks still flushed from her recent argument. "I do hope they're not wearing you down too much."

Sean chortled, "Not at all Lady Grantham. I used to farm back in Ireland and my mother-in-law told me that the farms here are mostly being looked after by women, now that most of the men have gone so," He spread his palms wide, "I thought maybe I could lend them my hand."

"Hmm how upright of you." Edward piped up silkily, strewing sauce upon his meat. He flicked his eyes towards Siobhan who tried to keep her poise as she absently toyed with the food on her plate.

"Yes I thought the farms around Downton could use a man's touch." Sean responded candidly.

Joseph and Mary rolled their eyes towards him in polite shock as did Matthew who half-raised his glass and mumbled, "Of course you did."

Edward gave him a stiff nod. "If you say so. The women here in Downton have only been farming for about a year and a half and it hasn't fallen to pieces just yet. But of course if you think your blessed farmhands can make any sort of difference then be our guest by all means."

Joseph skilfully turned his laughter into a cough. Matthew shot his sons a warning look before turning back to Sean and forcing a smile. "It's wonderful you're helping on our farms Sean and it certainly contributes to the war effort - but surely it's all just temporary work until you get called up?" He asked indirectly.

"If you haven't been already." Edward interjected firmly, challenging the other man with his strong glare, "It's been a month now and you haven't heard anything?"

Sean sucked in a sharp breath, his hand gripping around his knife and looking as though he'd quite like to stab Edward with it. But he managed to maintain his polite smile. "Well I'll have to wait and see if they want me."

"A young, healthy young lad like you?" Edward responded pointedly, choosing to ignore the sharp, reprimanding looks fired down the table by his family. "Why wouldn't they?"

Sean smirked across the table at him, determined not to let this kid bait him. "I'm sure they'd have their own reasons."

"Really?" Edward countered through gritted teeth, carefully slapping his napkin down. "Such as?"

"What about you Siobhan?" Georgina asked quickly, sensing an argument brewing. "How are you finding your time at the MTC?"

Siobhan turned towards her cousin in a daze, as though setting eyes upon her for the first time. "Me? Oh, I've been at the MTC for a couple of weeks now and I'm really enjoying it. I feel in my element there you know? My father taught me a lot about engines and cars and I'm sure you remember I grew up engrossed in that sort of activity. So I thought I'd be best suited there." She pressed a smile to her lips and beamed around the table, "Finally. I can't tell you how wonderful it feels to know I can put my skills to good use!"

"I'm so glad." Mary praised softly, a sad smile gracing her lips. Intuition and her eyes told her that something was definitely wrong with her niece but she knew better than to poke at it at the dinner table.

"Yes, it'll be fun." Georgina added, casting a smug look around the table, "Now we have two women in this family working with engines!"

"God help us all." Edward mumbled, earning him a sarcastic smirk from his sister in response.

"The Motor Transport Corps though Siobhan?" Sean enquired with a frown creasing his brows, "Are you sure you want to continue working there darling? It's one thing dabbling with a few cars here and there but becoming a proper mechanic to war machinery is something else entirely."

"I did more than just dabble Sean." Siobhan countered with as much sweet elegance as she could though her eyes flashed dangerously at him. "And I did a lot more than just watch my father and uncle fix their motors while handing them the occasional spanner."

"Indeed that I can vouch for." Tommy interjected swiftly, "She knows engines better than any of us!"

"Still why not try your hand at nursing?" Sean pressed in a tone laced with intimidation. "I'm sure you'll excel at it. I know your mother would've chosen that occupation for you."

Now it was Cora's turn to interrupt. "I find that a little hard to believe." She fired, her words shooting out like bullets. "I know Sybil would want Siobhan to do whatever she wants. Regardless of anyone's opinions."

"Yes she would." Tommy added coolly.

"I appreciate Mrs Branson's opinions." Sean replied in accelerating anger. "Yet Siobhan is my wife and," he placed a cold hand over hers. She jumped slightly at his sudden, possessive touch. "I'm sure she'll do what I think is best. Won't you darling?"

Edward quirked his brow in disbelief as the whole table lapsed into silence. "Jesus." He breathed into his water glass.

The ladies tried to show their concerns towards Siobhan through their eyes but it was no use. It was obvious to anyone who knew the girl that she was trying so hard to hold in a scream but of course she couldn't. Instead, all she could do was mask her humility with the most gracious of smiles, like her mother used to do. Yet under the table her hands were twisting her napkin as if it were her husband's neck. Mary squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, shifting her gaze towards Matthew who was glaring at Sean with a mixture of extreme dislike and...fear.

Sean continued to stare expectantly at his wife who didn't say anything except force her head into a nod. She picked up her cutlery and carried on eating without a word or glimpse to anyone, almost as if she were dismissing them all from her presence entirely.

* * *

><p>"That was just disgusting!" Edward remarked once the ladies had retired to the music room. Sean had then excused himself briefly and they finally had the dining room to themselves. "Who treats their wife like that? No one can accuse me of ever being nice but even I know where to draw the line where bigotry is concerned!"<p>

"Edward hush." Matthew ordered firmly, casting a cautious eye at the dining room door. "He'll come back."

"Poor Siobhan." Tommy sighed into his hands. "I knew I should've screamed objections at their wedding. What on earth was my father thinking? Agreeing to such a match?"

"I admit it is rather odd of Tom to arrange such a marriage with his only daughter and not verify the full...facts." Matthew said with concern. He wearily rubbed his forehead and shrugged off his concerns, "Then again maybe Sean was just being protective over his wife. It has been known."

Tommy threw him a sceptical glimpse, "If you say so Uncle Matthew."

"Perhaps there's more to this story than we know." Edward remarked softly, "If anything, let us comfort ourselves that this chap is miles more suitable than -" He broke off instantly as Joseph's body stiffened. He had been sitting quietly in his seat, listening to the conversation with a heavy heart and gazing blearily at the grand oil painting hanging behind his father.

"I think it's time we told him." Tommy's gentle voice of authority pierced through the brittle atmosphere. "Just tell him and let's get this over and done with."

Edward threw a fleeting glimpse at his father before quickly shaking his head. "No. This isn't the time nor place."

"The time or place to tell me what?" Joseph asked curiously, unable to stop the knot of anxiety twisting in his gut as yet another sharp pain sliced across his shoulder. "Oh God, please don't let it be too horrible." He surreptitiously clutched his throbbing shoulder, "I don't know how much more bad news I can take today."

Matthew paced around the table, smiling sadly as he grasped his son's shoulder. "Joe, you might have to brace yourself for a little more news. But it's all right. This will all make sense."

Joseph swallowed, looking from his father to his brother in to his cousin in gripping expectation. "What is it?"

"It's about Ned." Edward answered quietly, trying to ignore the look of distress that flashed across his brother's face. "And HMS Worthington."

* * *

><p>"Poor dear." Cora sighed sadly as she took a rather large gulp of brandy and watching Georgina's slender frame scamper into the night. Siobhan had refused to be goaded into conversation with them and insisted she needed some fresh air in order to escape. Barely had she left the room when both Countesses had sent Georgina hot on her trail. "How are we going to manage this?" She asked wearily.<p>

"We're going to do right by Sybil and her daughter and we're going to support her whether her husband wants us to or not." Mary replied with a tone of cool finality.

The door scraped open and Rebecca swiftly entered the room. "I've just been to check on Granny, she's asleep now..." She gazed around the music room with a peculiar frown, "Where's Siobhan and Georgina?"

"Outside." Cora answered, tipping a little more brandy into her glass much to the scrutiny of her daughter, "Siobhan didn't really feel like making much after dinner small talk with us. I think she's just waiting for the men to come through so we can go home."

Mary checked her watch, "It's just gone ten! Lord knows what they're talking about in there. I hope they don't reappear too drunk."

Cora chuckled, "My guess is that they're interrogating Sean."

"But Sean's outside." Rebecca interjected with some perplexity. "I - saw him on my way down, he was in the front entrance."

Mary stared at her. "You mean he's not in the dining room drinking port with the others?"

Rebecca shook her head as she settled into an armchair, "No he's talking to one of the Naval Officers. They seemed to be deep in conversation, though what they were muttering about, I couldn't tell you. I just assumed Edward frightened him off."

Mary adjusted herself airily in her seat, "I should hope so."

* * *

><p>All the candles had flickered away into a stream of smoke. No one dared speak. Joseph remained seated, listening to Edward and Tommy's tales and now he was positive that his shoulder was about to split from his neck. Once they had finished, all eyes were on him, waiting for his reaction but his expression remained blank and as flawless as ever. He had grown so accustomed to using his neutral idiom over the years it had become somewhat of a second face for him.<p>

Finally he lifted his eyes to Tommy and said in a voice of surprising calm, "I see. So Ned has definitely crossed over to the other side? That's it? There's no coming back?"

"Did you ever think he would?" Edward asked in disbelief.

Joseph didn't need to answer him but his silence was answer in enough. Matthew was never one for reading people's emotions or regarding other people's feelings but when it came to his children, he knew he had to try. He knew his son was practically writhing in turmoil at everything he had just heard and the Earl only prayed he could bear the strength to help them fight this.

"Joe," He started with as much caution as he dared, "I know this has been hard to hear." He bore the sharp reprimanding glare Joseph struck him with. "Believe me I do! Victor was a dear friend of mine and I've known Ned ever since he was a little boy running around here causing all sorts of trouble with you."

Joseph released a sour chuckle, massaging his thumping shoulder. "Trouble is too polite a word for him."

"Even so," Matthew pressed on pointedly, "I think it best that we all band together now. Now that we know all the facts."

"Do we though?" Edward's jagged tone sliced through the fragile atmosphere. He crossed his arms and glared at his father, "It's been a month now and you still haven't told us anything about this traitorous group and why they want you back!"

"You do know why they want you back don't you Uncle Matthew?" Tommy asked softly, trying to keep the peace between father and son if only for a little while. "Only, it would really help us – and by us I also mean Intelligence – build a solid case against them."

"The story is quite complicated Tommy." Matthew said gently, averting his gaze to the floor in mild shame. "And I shall need your Aunt Mary to help tell it as she is also involved."

Joseph downed an entire glass of scotch and gasped as the trickling liquid stung his throat. "I can help you build your case Tommy." He said emphatically, slamming his glass down and rising from his seat. "I know everything about the Gowers. And I know a hell of a lot about Ned. I can tell you his habits, his manners, his daily routine and then some. If you want me to help you." He proudly thumped his fist across his chest in a patriotic manner, "I'm your man."

"You'd do that?" Tommy asked in a small and timid voice, "You'd really sell out your own - your best friend?"

Joseph's stared at Tommy with a look so blank it sent a nervous chill running down Matthew's spine.

"He's not my best friend anymore." Joseph stated with calm emphasism, "He's a traitor and from what you've told me so far - everything he's done, is doing... it's all treason. And you know the punishment for treason?"

There was a very uncomfortable silence punctuating these words as Tommy nodded stiffly, all gazes averting to the floor for fear of the steely determination they'd see lest they look into Joseph's eyes.

* * *

><p>Lady Georgina wrapped her arms around her flimsy dress and scurried out of the back entrance, running as fast as her delicate shoes would let her. Luckily she found her cousin seated on her parents bench under the old oak tree. She sidled up to her and sat down carefully so as not to crease or dirty her dress, lest she face her mother's wrath.<p>

Siobhan hastily wiped the lone tear meandering from her eye and tried to smile at her cousin. "I'm so terribly sorry about dinner tonight." She breathed, her entire demeanour radiating with guilt. "Sean's not familiar with our - your ways of dining just yet."

Georgina noticed the slip up but didn't question it. She shook her head, "Don't fret about it. Papa was very gracious about the whole thing." When she garnered no reply from her cousin her concern only intensified. She cautiously shifted closer towards her, "Sean does seem a little – firm – with his opinions." Georgina stated with as much politeness as she could assemble. "I've never really seen you this speechless before Siobhan."

Siobhan raised her brow. "I suppose I haven't got quite used to married life just yet." She released a soft laugh, "All my life I'd been able to as I pleased. My parents raised Tommy and myself to always, always follow our own hearts and dreams. They use themselves as an example." A fond smile teased her lips, "Whenever I was a little girl, my mother would tell me how she'd always followed hers by marrying Pa. Then she'd kiss me on the cheek, call me her little angel and remind me that as a woman in this world it wouldn't be easy for me to do as I pleased yet I should jolly well try!"

They both laughed at Sybil's fierce determination to do right by her daughter. The smile gradually evaporated from Siobhan's face as tears started to pool the corners of her eyes, "I love Aunt Mary and Grandmama, they're wonderful to me. But I do wish my mother were here right now. She'd be able to tell me what to do."

"Siobhan you know she'd want you to join the MTC and I think you'll make -"

"No, no it's not that." Siobhan interrupted swiftly. "I mean, I will join the MTC, of course I will no question. I'm not going to let all my mother's sacrifices fall down the drain just because my husband throws a tantrum."

"Well what's the problem then?" Georgina asked in confusion.

Siobhan heaved a desolate sigh, "It's nothing. Really."

"Well maybe I can help!" Georgina offered with sincerity, "Oh come on Siobhan you're never one for shying away when things get a bit tough." She grabbed her cousin's arm, "Won't you please tell me what is troubling you?"

"I think I'm with child Georgina." Siobhan whispered, her dull voice injected with trepidation.

Georgina gasped in delight, "But that's wonderful!" Siobhan didn't even show a flicker of response. Georgina peered closely at her cousin with uncertainty, "Isn't it?"

"In some way I suppose so." Siobhan replied in a voice completely devoid of any emotion. "There's just one problem. I thought it had died as soon as I married and it did for a while. That is, until I came back here."

"Oh? What's that?" Georgina dared to ask even though deep down she knew the answer and positively dreaded hearing it. She strongly resisted the urge to stick her fingers in her ears and hum away in a childish manner, anything to keep from hearing - this.

Siobhan turned to her and tried to smile through her prison of tears as she finally admitted the one fact that she had buried deep within the depths of her soul, "I'm still in love with Ned Gower."

* * *

><p><em>to be continued...<em>


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